Playing To Win
by color my world bright
Summary: There's nothing more exciting, nerve-wracking, and dramatic than the biggest soccer game of the season—except for maybe what happened while getting there. —JackKim; AU. R&R.
1. First Impressions

**A/N: Hello and welcome to my newest Kickin' It story, _Playing To Win_! It is AU and based hugely on soccer. Hopefully you'll enjoy the ride, no matter how tedious or frustrating it is.**

**There will be a longer A/N at the bottom explaining everything in greater detail, but for now, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

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><p><em>"The rules of soccer are very simple, basically it is this: if it moves, kick it. If it doesn't move, kick it until it does."<em>

…

—_Phil Woosnam_

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><p><em>The field is already abuzz with excitement, the pre-game adrenaline, the tensions running high as the two opposite teams warm up on opposite sides of the field. The sounds of people crowding the stands fill your ears, the shouts of encouragement as parents start to wave signs and chant pre-rehearsed rhymes. You order a box of popcorn and a soda absentmindedly, and throw a buttery kernel into your mouth as your attention turns to the field. You aren't even playing this game, but you know how incredibly crucial it is.<em>

_Your eyes scan the two teams, roving over their polar opposite uniforms—one team is dressed out in white and green, and the other is covered in red and black. Your eyes scrutinize the players, assessing the accuracy of the shots they're making to warm up their legs, the stretches they're executing…_

_A pair of teenagers catch your eye._

_They're from the team dressed in the dark green and white. It's a boy and a girl, a brunet and a blonde, respectively, and they huddle alone on the bench, away from the rest of their team—and this is exactly what gets your attention._

_You lean forward intently, watching them with an air of interest. Their lack of warm-up piques your slight curiosity—why they aren't practicing with the rest of the team before such an important game is a mystery to you. _

_They aren't warming up, not even stretching, but instead they are talking in what looks to you like low, hushed voices. The blonde reaches out to pat the dark-haired boy's leg comfortingly, but despite her attempts at sympathy, the latter looks agitated—distressed, worried, sick to his stomach._

_She flashes him a warm smile, and he attempts to return one for her benefit, but it looks strained and fake._

_And you wonder what's bothering him._

_These two, though you barely know them, seem to share a bond—you can tell that just by staring at their actions, the way they're talking to each other. They exchange multiple glances, share several looks, but after a long time neither of them seem to be interested in talking anymore. Their mouths stop moving, and they simply rest there on the bench, not even bothering to warm up._

_They look comfortable enough, rolling a ball back and forth between the two of them, watching the rest of the team warm up without them._

_The girl blushes red at something the boy suddenly whispers, and grabs for the clipboard under the metallic bench they're seated on, beginning to draw something with her black marker, losing herself in the plays so intently that she doesn't see the boy slip off after another two minutes._

_He disappears off of the field, into the maze of locker rooms on the side of the field. The brunet stops at the entrance, looking back at the bench, as if wondering if she's going to call after him or notice that he's even gone._

_She doesn't do anything._

_And you speculate, guessing that maybe she knows he's getting away, and that she's letting him go._

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE: First Impressions<strong>

-:-

Being late to breakfast on his very first day at private school was probably not his best idea.

In his defense, Jack hadn't been doing anything remotely time-wasting or _bad_—he'd seen a kid who'd tripped on his way to the dining hall and had helped him up, assisted in dusting him off, before realizing that he still couldn't find his dorm room.

Dragging around two suitcases and one large backpack around the spacious, sprawled-out campus hadn't been the best experience—not while he was also attempting to juggle a map, a plastic bag containing the various pieces of clothing that belonged to his private school uniform, and his iPhone. The sidewalks wound confusingly between buildings, snaking through the grounds like tiny rivers. By the time he'd finally figured out the map, righted it (he'd been holding it upside down—blame it on the lack of sleep) and used his silver key to unlock the door to his dorm room, one shared with another student, most of the people had already cleared out of the halls and headed towards the dining hall, leaving Jack in the dust.

The door to the room swung open slowly, as if anticipating Jack's arrival.

His home for the next two years or so was pretty spacious, as dorm rooms went. A large window overlooking the soccer fields and some other school buildings let in early morning sunshine. Two beds were tucked into opposite corners of the room, and a pair of dressers, crafted out of matching, dark wood, decorated the edges. The closets looked pretty well-sized, not too big but not too small; his was definitely big enough to store that he had brought from home. The room was also equipped with two desks and a tiny fridge that no doubt held drinks and other random snacks. A flat-screen T.V. hung on the wall, above the two dressers, visible from the beds and the desk chairs. Jack noticed a remote perched on one of the dressers.

One side of the room was heartlessly bare; the other was practically bursting with paraphernalia.

With a loud thump, Jack dropped all three of his bags onto the wooden floor in an unceremonious fashion, rubbing his temples, sensing a headache starting to creep up inside his head.

This was his home for the rest of high school.

Attending the Bobby Wasabi Private School was a privilege, he wouldn't deny that—it was an academy specifically designed to promote student leadership. He'd read in the brochure sent to him by mail that students led most of the activities in classes, and teachers simply supervised and made sure nothing went awry—in other words, they kept everything in control long enough to ensure that nothing would blow up. Sports teams, after-school clubs—they were all organized and led by students.

Jack was late—two weeks late, in fact, as his scholarship forms for the school had gotten lost in the mail, resulting in him having to mail them again as soon as he'd found out about it. His flight from Texas to California, where the private school was located, had been delayed as well. He had intended on arriving last night, but thunderstorms in Texas had rendered the skies unsafe to fly in. When he had finally managed to grab a taxi to the campus, in the wee hours of the morning, he'd been immediately greeted by the principal, who'd kept Jack in his office for nearly an hour, Mr. Wasabi attempting to sort out Jack's classes while Jack put his best effort into not falling asleep.

In his sleepy stupor, Jack was faintly positive that he'd accidentally chosen Floral Design for an elective. He groaned again—he would have to see his school counselor about that and change it as soon as possible.

What a great way to start off his first day at school—half-asleep, dead on his feet, and very, _very_hungry.

He was tempted to sink into the bare bed that was obviously his in the corner of the room, but he reminded himself that while he was tired, this was his first day of school. He couldn't screw anything up. According to his iPhone, he was now five minutes late for breakfast and he still had some things to accomplish.

Jack intended to wash up in the bathroom before putting on his uniform, and grabbing a towel and the clothing, he headed towards the bathroom on the other side of the room, near the other boy's bed. Jack had never really noticed until now how messy his roommate was—there were random clothes splayed across the floor, the bed was unmade, and several candy wrappers were strewn across the dark blue sheets that covered the bed in a rumpled heap.

Well, at least the guy seemed to have some personality. Jack preferred a little mess to a boring square.

The bathroom was slightly cleaner, and Jack splashed his face vigorously with ice-cold water from the sink, hoping that the sudden temperature of the water would wake him up.

Jack had never worn private school uniforms—he'd always gone to public school in Texas—but the dark green blazer (he'd decided not to wear the gray sweater), white dress shirt, and dark pants were comfortable enough. He fumbled around with the green-and-gray striped tie for a bit before managing to knot it correctly around his neck, and took a long look at himself in the mirror.

Good enough. There were dark, tired circles under his eyes, but those could be easily remedied by a long night's rest after school today.

Sneaking another hurried glance at his phone, he noticed that he was now twenty minutes late for breakfast—breakfast in the dining hall would be ending in ten minutes, and if he wanted to get a bite to eat to supply him with enough energy, enough for him not to _collapse_ in the classrooms, he needed to leave.

Now.

Well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He zipped open the largest suitcase he'd brought, which was still sitting on the ground, and revealed his skateboard. He'd always loved skateboarding. Deciding to forego the helmet, he slipped his room key in his pocket, stuffed a couple of blank notebooks, unsharpened pencils, his map of the campus, and his school schedule in his backpack, slung the bag over his shoulder, and slipped out from his dorm room, closing the door with a thud and checking to make sure it had locked securely behind him.

Jack could unpack later, but right now, he needed _food._

He wasn't actually one-hundred percent positive if skateboarding was even allowed on campus, but if he was caught, he could always say that he didn't know the rules. As soon as he'd reached the smooth gray sidewalk, he dropped the board to the concrete and glided as fast as he could towards the general direction of the dining hall, following the very conveniently placed sign with an arrow that directed him straight forward, to one of the largest buildings on campus.

The wind whipped through his hair, and in spite of his hurried mood, he allowed himself a small smile, shaking his head and flicking the brown hair back in place as he turned a sharp corner. He skid on the wheels until he'd finally drawn close enough to the hall to hear the chatter of a couple hundred students as they gossiped away and munched on breakfast.

It was time to face the music—er, students. Not only was he walking in late, he was also the new kid at the school—there was no doubt that he would attract a lot of attention to himself just by breezing in through the front doors.

Jack turned the final corner at top speed, intending to stop as soon as possible—

And skated straight into someone.

The brick wall, unfortunately, had not provided him with a view of who might be walking towards him on the other side. He smacked straight into the figure, a blonde that was currently leaving the dining hall early. Jack knocked her directly to the ground, managing to catch himself on the wall by gripping it painfully, the rough surface scraping his palms and leaving him with several red marks as a punishment.

The apologies were bursting out of his mouth before he'd even regained balance. "Oh, god—I'm so, _so_ sorry—"

He attempted to reach out for the girl he'd run over after he'd succeeded in steadying himself, taking no notice of the skateboard that was slowly rolling off towards the grass. Jack held a hand out, regardless of the blood that was slowly beginning to show on his palms, fully intending to help her up and dust her off and apologize about one hundred more times.

Instead of taking his hand, though, she completely ignored it, instead choosing to rise to her knees, her eyes directed towards the ground, and stuff a few stray books that had spilled out back into her book bag. Her obvious intent at avoiding his eyes was accompanied with a cold determination that seemed to reach Jack through his clothes, and he involuntarily shut his mouth.

Of course, when Jack Anderson wanted to say something, his mouth didn't stay sealed for long.

"Look, I'm really, really sorry," Jack apologized hastily, guilt creeping into his voice as he took notice of her scraped knees that had started to bleed, much like his palms. "I—are you okay?"

The blonde finally looked up for the first time, the loose waves of golden hair that had fallen forward now parting to reveal a face.

A _beautiful_ face.

However, the picture-perfect features were severely marred by the scowl of obvious disgust and annoyance that was splashed across her face. She rose to her feet swiftly with an uncanny grace, glaring at him with an air of detestation that seemed to chill his insides, angling her body away from him so she wouldn't have to come in physical contact with him. Her eyes, a startling shade of dark brown, were filled with dislike and disgust as she ran his eyes up and down his body, examining the stranger who'd just knocked her down onto the hard concrete.

Jack didn't get scared of—well, _anything_, really—but he hurriedly stepped back several feet from her clearly annoyed gaze that seemed to burn a hole through his chest.

"You can't skateboard on school grounds," she informed him, an icy edge to her voice, swinging her book bag over her shoulder. She brushed some dirt and sediments off of her gray sweater and flicked something from her skirt, readjusting her green-and-gray tie and straightening the collar of her white shirt. She examined her scraped knees for a moment before returning her eyes to his, obviously not caring about the injuries and marks. "For future reference."

"Do you want me to take you to the nurse's office?" Jack offered, attempting to smooth over her frigid words with some helpful ones. "Your knees look like they really hurt—"

She snorted disdainfully, instantly knocking away his concern with her sarcastic tone. "They'd be fine if you'd followed the rules and watched where you were going."

Jack was beginning to get annoyed now, despite the fact that he had been the one to run over her. He'd apologized—several times. Why couldn't she just accept his apology and make amends? That was how normal girls usually reacted. "Look, I said I was sorry—"

"Sorry doesn't always cut it, you know?" she interrupted, her musical voice harsh with accusation. "Just keep that in mind next time you knock a girl over."

With that, she strode off, purposefully bumping into Jack's shoulder and twisting his body sideways in a painful manner. The blonde headed across the campus, leaving Jack staring openmouthed after her, still in shock over her obvious dislike of him and her cold words.

After a few minutes, he simply picked up his skateboard and returned back to his dorm, intent on keeping the board locked up in his closet for the rest of the semester, all thoughts of breakfast leaving his mind.

His appetite had disappeared, along with the girl.

What a way to start the semester.

* * *

><p>"Hey! New kid!"<p>

Jack's head snapped away from his position at the lunch line, where his eyes had been fixated on the food, to the direction of where the voice had come from.

It was now lunchtime, and Jack was _starving—_literally. He hadn't attempted to eat breakfast after the skateboard incident/run-in with the blonde girl, who seemed to hate his guts. He'd seen her around campus a couple of times, but she'd never noticed him. It was true that her ignorance might have been due to the fact that Jack jumped behind bushes whenever her blonde hair came within sight, but he digressed.

He cursed his cowardice after the second time—he was Jack Anderson. He didn't hide from _anyone, _much less a girl. Nothing against girls, of course, but he wasn't afraid anything, really. And it seemed weird that she had this effect on him.

Finding his classes for the most part had been pretty simple, and the teachers had been halfway decent as well—the worst they'd done was prompt Jack to go up to the front of the room and introduce himself. Jack was by no means shy, even if he wasn't bubbly as champagne, so providing small introductory sentences on him and his life had been a piece of cake.

All in all, the Bobby Wasabi Private School was proving to be a pretty cool place so far—the brochures had been serious when they'd stated that for the most part, students led the classes. From what Jack had noticed, for the majority of the time, the teacher for the class would simply sit in the back, perched on a chair, and observe the students after issuing instructions and the day's lesson plans.

The students here were _rich,_ though—and they seemed to know it. Jack was well aware that tuition was steep, part of the reason why he was here on scholarship, but he'd seen more than a few designer bags and shiny phones. The only thing about himself that remotely screamed "upper-class" was his iPhone, and he'd received that as a parting gift from his mom.

"Thank you…" he nodded politely at the lunch lady, reading her nametag with a slight air of curiosity—_Marge,_ it read. "Marge."

She merely nodded at him, and without another word, he slid his tray from the line and proceeded to find the source of the voice that had called out for him.

"Jack! Over here!"

He finally detected the speaker—a short, African-American kid with braces that sat at a table in one of the corners of the large dining hall. Taking this invitation to a lunch table before it could escape him, he quickly crossed the busy room, narrowly avoiding other students armed with empty lunch trays, and slid into a seat at the rectangular table.

The table was comprised of four students, all in the same grade as him, seated on the two opposite benches of the table. Jack knew that he had at least one class with all of them—and in the same period, at that. They four had sat together in the back of the classroom, a group, while Jack had been forced to take a seat in the front. He'd just forgotten their names.

The one who'd called out to him was smiling at him timidly now, despite his earlier confidence. A boy who possessed a skinny frame was tucked onto the wooden bench opposite him, dark blue, intense eyes analyzing him thoughtfully as soon as Jack had taken a seat. Several books were stacked next to him, and judging by the thickness of the textbooks and the pristine, orderly state of his school uniform, Jack assumed that he was enrolled in all honors classes and was a bit of a nerd, as stereotypical as that sounded. At the very least, he took academics seriously.

Next to him was a girl—the only girl at the table, in fact. She looked like a female version of the boy with the books—softer, more feminine features, mid-length wavy hair, glasses, but all the same clothing order and books. She smiled shyly at him, tucking a loose brown curl behind her ears before adjusting her glasses and returning to her salad.

The most animated one at Jack's newly found lunch table was, no doubt, the figure on his other side—a bright-eyed, dark-haired teenager that had somehow made the school uniform, which everyone was required to wear, look casual and fun. The green-and-gray striped tie wrapped around his neck was loosened; the top button on the white shirt was unbuttoned; and the sleeves of his sweater had been rolled up all the way to his elbows to give himself an _I don't really care about school_look. He'd grinned as soon as Jack had slid onto the bench and held his hand up for a high-five.

Jack slapped his hand, a bit confused at the eager gesture but unwilling to reject a perfectly good high-five.

The black-haired boy's smile had widened even more and he laughed in obvious delight. "So, you're my new roommate, huh?"

"You're Jerry?" Jack checked cautiously, just to make sure. "Mr. Wasabi mentioned that a guy named Jerry Martinez was assigned to be my new roommate…"

Jerry nodded. "Yeah, that's me! And these are my friends—Eddie—"

He pointed a finger towards the dark-skinned boy who'd called Jack over to the table in the first place.

"And Milton and Julie," he finished, now directing his fingers towards the remaining boy and the girl, respectively. Milton nodded formally at him, allowing a half-smile to trace across his face in greeting. Julie waved slightly, her movements timid but friendly.

"Well, I'm Jack," Jack introduced himself, although he was pretty positive that everyone at the table (and maybe in the whole school) was already aware of his identity. "I'm new, like you guys said."

Eddie shrugged. "Yeah, everyone on campus knows about you."

_Suspicions confirmed. _Jack's cheeks flushed a pale pink, and his mind immediately thought of the blonde girl. He managed to get out, "Is it because I knocked her over?"

Jerry's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Knocked who over?"

"Well, I—"

"Dude," Jerry's eyes widened, and he held his two hands up in surrender. "You're seriously scaring me! And confusing me!"

Jack managed a light-hearted laugh at the teen's wide-eyed innocence and genuine confusion. He'd been around Jerry for about five seconds, and he could already tell that Jerry was going to be a good friend to have here.

Milton, across from Jack, snorted sarcastically, leaning across the table and patting Jerry on the shoulder in a patronizing fashion. "Here, let me explain to you who everyone is without you getting hopelessly mixed up. I'm Milton, and although it sounds conceited, I'm the smart one, except for maybe Julie, my girlfriend."

Jack nodded slightly. "Nice to meet you two."

"Jerry," Milton tilted his head at the aforementioned teen. "Is the perpetually confused one. Oh, and he loves to dance."

As if to further verify Milton's statement, Jerry started tapping his foot and humming out a tune that Jack had heard in the taxi on his way to the boarding school. "Got that right!"

"And Eddie," Milton sighed in exasperation. "Claims to be a _playah,_which he isn't. However, he _does_ plays the cello—"

"I quit," Eddie interjected quietly.

"Oh, fine—he's an _ex-_cello player—and he loves food. And girls. That's about it."

"Interesting," Jack muttered under his breath. "Nice to meet all of you, though," he declared, louder this time.

He took a huge bite out of his meatball sandwich, the ravenous feeling that had been growing inside of him finally taking over. His stomach actually grumbled painfully at the contact with real, legitimate food. "Are you the only ones that sit at this table? It's kind a big for such a small group…"

Julie shrugged. "No. Kim sits here as well. Actually, I wonder where she is right now…she's late…"

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Another girl? What does she look like? Maybe I've seen her around campus."

Julie pulled out her phone and appeared to scroll through some texts in rapid succession before supplying, "Kim's in the lunch line—she said she was running late from her last class. She should be here any minute now."

Jack considered his next words. "Is she nice?"

"Totally!" Jerry enthused, before his face fell a little bit. "Well, if you get to know her, and if you're nice to her. She can get angry when she wants to be, or when she's on her period—"

"_Jerry!_" Eddie scolded him, but he shrugged in agreement after another moment of consideration. "Okay, yeah, that's a pretty good description of her, actually. Fierce. Blonde—but if you insult her about it, she'll kill you…"

Jack tensed in apprehension.

_Fierce. Blonde._

_Was it…?_

Milton's eyes caught onto something behind Jack. "Oh, look, there's her now!"

A golden-haired teen was walking across the cafeteria, headed for the lunch table that now consisted of five students. Her dark brown eyes were light and carefree, a huge contrast from the last time that Jack had seen them at their full force, the orbs trained on him as if she had been about to castrate him or something.

It was the girl that he'd knocked down.

The girl that now most likely hated him…and would quit possibly like to knock _him_ to the ground…

_Oh, crap._

"Just don't get on her bad side," Milton advised, noticing Jack's stunned expression, mistaking his horror for nervousness. "And you'll be—"

"Too late," Jack muttered, his muscles tightening as if anticipating a fight.

Judging by the glare the blonde had directed towards him early that morning, though, a fight just might be what he would be receiving in about ten seconds.

Jerry grinned at Jack's words. "You know her already?"

"Jerry!" Milton reprimanded. "If he knows her already and he's not happy about it, it's not a reason to be happy." Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Milton continued, "Jack, how do you know her? You do know her already, right?"

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking determinedly forward, pretending that the blonde's eyes _weren't_ burning holes into his back. "Yeah, um…I—"

"_You._"

Jack's head snapped up at the cold, biting voice, his eyes meeting dark brown orbs that stared down hatefully at him. The blonde—or, as Jerry and the rest of the group had called her, _Kim_—balanced a lunch tray in her hands, her book bag hooked over her shoulder, and was currently glaring daggers down at him. Jack noticed that her knees, the ones that had been scraped in their encounter that morning, had interestingly not been wrapped up in bandages. The bright, blood-red hue had faded from the skin, leaving dark scarlet marks, but Jack was still surprised that she hadn't whined to the nurse about it or something.

"Uh…hey." Jack tried for a sheepish grin. "I believe we've met…"

His greeting was rewarded with cold silence.

Jerry's eyes were as wide as saucers, taking in the tension between the brunet and the blonde with an evident look of glee in his eyes, despite the tension that seemed to be floating through the air as though it were tangible. Geez, anything amused this guy—from the newest song, it seemed, to some drama happening at the lunch table.

Jack suddenly wondered what Jerry would act like if confronted with a shiny item—perhaps metallic, or golden.

Kim's glare sharpened in dislike, and her upper lip curled in something—was it disgust? "Right, I remember you. You're the one that ran over me with your skateboard this morning."

"That's who she was talking about?" Jack heard Julie whisper to Milton.

Jack winced. "I…"

"This is who you guys are sitting with?" Kim demanded, abruptly turning her attention away from Jack and directing it at the remaining members of the lunch table. "Jerry, when you said you were sitting with someone new, I didn't think you meant the _new kid._"

Jack felt her icy gaze on him once again as her dark eyes glared at him with obvious contempt. Jack was never afraid, but now he felt like shrinking down into his seat under the intensity of her gaze. He was angry, though—furious at her irrational dislike of him and the way she was acting to her friends, as if Jack sitting here had been their fault—or as if it had been their fault that Jack had run into her that morning.

"Kim, don't be—" Milton tried pleading with her, appealing to her reason, but Kim wouldn't have any of it.

The blonde shook her head sharply, her golden, loose curls of hair bouncing around slightly as she muttered in a low, harsh voice, "I'll sit with Grace and the rest of the team today."

"Hey," Jack snapped, the anger in him finally reaching its maximum. "Just because I shoved you down and ruined your perfect skin or whatever doesn't mean that you have to be so rude to Milton and everyone else!"

Kim froze, her glare murderous, and leaned in to whisper to Jack.

"Don't _tell_ me what to do," she hissed into his ear, her breath tickling the side of his head. "Do you think I'm really so air-headed that I'm mad at you for ruining my, to use your exact words, _'perfect skin'?_ I may be blonde, but I am not an idiot. I am _not_ a girl who goes crying to the nurse about every single little injury, contrary to what you might think."

Jack had to restrain himself from flinching under her intimidating gaze, and merely stood his ground, waiting for her to make another move, choosing not to respond to her words.

"Um…Kim?" Julie ventured. Julie swept a couple of books from the smooth surface of the table. "Come on, sit down—"

Kim's gaze softened as they met Julie's eyes, but they immediately hardened again as her eyes dropped from Julie to Jack. "I said, I'll eat with Grace and the rest of the team today—no big problem."

Jerry's eyes grew even wider as she began to turn around. "Wait, Kim, don't—!"

She left without a second glance.

"Yeah, she's pleasant, all right," Jack murmured sarcastically. "And she's your best friend?"

Jerry merely chomped down on another French fry.

* * *

><p>Jerry had, apparently, taken it upon himself to be Jack's personal tour guide for the rest of day. As soon as the last bell had rung, a shrill sound that pierced Jack's ears and had jerked him awake from his peaceful nap in the middle of Chemistry, Jerry had dragged Jack over to their shared dorm room, where Jack had managed to unpack a shirt or two before Jerry had forced him to change into more casual clothes (they weren't required to wear the uniform outside of school hours) and started showing Jack all around campus.<p>

"Jack—hey, are you paying attention?"

Jack's tired brown eyes flicked up slowly from the concrete, the fatigue and the buzz from his first day finally getting to him, weighing him down like bricks. He straightened his posture and rubbed his eyes forcefully, chiding himself for coming off so tired and so rude. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just tired—I think I'll go to dinner and then straight to bed."

"Hey, man," Jerry patted him on the back sympathetically. "That's okay. I'll just show you the soccer fields and all the other outside sports, and then we can go to the dorm before dinner. Over here—on the soccer field, you can see our dorm room's window! Look!"

"Right…"

Jerry grinned at the sight of their room. "Okay, now let's keep going—hang in there, man, we're almost done."

Shrugging obediently, Jack shuffled after Jerry as they started up a small hill, arriving at a large soccer field, enclosed by a dark green track that wound around the edges of the green grass in an oval shape, white numbers labeling the different starting and ending positions. The field was mostly empty, but Jack could see a small group of kids passing the ball back and forth lightly. Even though their movements were casual, Jack detected serious skill in some of their passes and kicks to each other. Their moves were practiced and efficient, graceful and fluid.

Wait—was that Eddie? And Julie? And _Milton?_

All of them played soccer?

"Jerry, I didn't know you guys played soccer," Jack commented in an offhand tone as they continued to cross the running track. Jack stopped at the sand pit and kicked at the fine grains with the toe of his Vans, sticking his hands inside his jean pockets as he waited for an answer.

Jerry's face lit up. "Yeah, we do! We're all on the school team—I'm goalie, or at least I was last season. And the season before that. And the season before that…"

Jack held his hands up to stop the flow of words streaming out of the opposite teenager's mouth, now confident that Jerry had been on the team for at least a couple of years now—there was no need to rehash all of the seasons. "Do you have to try out again this year again or something? You know, because it's a new semester?"

"Yeah, but most of the regulars make it in again unless there's something seriously wrong with them. Hey, do _you_ play soccer?" Jerry's dark eyes were hopeful as he appraised Jack with an air of professional interest; it was probably the most mature gaze Jack had ever seen Jerry possess. "We need a new forward…"

Jack continued to kick at the sand as he muttered, "I used to play a little bit. Not anymore, but…well…like I said, before."

Jerry's eyes lit up like a little kid's on Christmas morning. "Would you try out for the team? What position did you play?"

"Forward. Usually right or left."

"Perfect!" Jerry exclaimed in glee, his grin spreading across his face, the expression now starting to take on a creepy edge. "You have to try out for the team!"

Jack quickly backtracked, holding his hands up in defense as he struggled to avoid having to agree to Jerry's suggestion. He'd played for a long time before he'd quit two years ago or so, due to the fact that while he had been an excellent forward, the pressure of winning had been getting to him—and there was also the issue of the expenses that came with being a member on a traveling select team.

There was a reason Jack had been obliged to file for a scholarship to Bobby Wasabi Private Academy—this level of education was pricey, and even though his mom worked day and night to provide for him it sometimes wasn't enough. "Oh, no, I don't play anymore. I used to, I haven't played in at least two or three years, I probably really suck—"

"_Watch out!"_

Jack recognized the familiar sound of Eddie's voice, and he whipped sideways to meet Eddie's alarmed glance, struggling to take in the situation as quickly as he could. The group across the field, the one that had been juggling a ball back and forth, was now _missing_one crucial thing—the soccer ball itself. Milton, or one of them, must have kicked the ball at the wrong angle—it was now headed straight towards Jack's head. If he didn't move, it would smack him straight in the face.

"Jack!" Jerry cried out shrilly.

Without thinking, Jack threw himself backwards, twisting in midair, his natural instinct taking over as he aimed himself towards the ground, legs pointed skywards. He kicked at the ball as hard as he could as soon as it came within reach of his right foot. His aim was just a tiny bit off—instead of sending it sailing back towards Eddie, like he'd intended to do, the black-and-white sphere landed between Milton and Julie.

Still, though, Jack felt a tiny bit of satisfaction at the soccer maneuver—he hadn't performed a bicycle kick in at least a year, and his aim had been almost perfect.

Jerry, Milton, Julie, and Eddie gaped, open-mouthed, at Jack as soon as he'd picked himself up off of the ground and brushed the grass off of the back of his red-and-white plaid shirt, the ball rolling away from their group, all but forgotten as they stared at him in surprise.

Jerry was the first one to snap out of his daze, and his tone was incredulous as he spluttered at Jack. "And you say you '_probably really suck'_?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! The first few paragraphs were a sort of prologue and they provide foreshadowing for the end of this story—so, naturally, those events won't appear again until the end.**

**Kim may have come across as cold and mean in this chapter, especially at the beginning, but keep in mind that she doesn't know Jack and Jack actually ran her over with his skateboard. She'll have additional reasons for her dislike, and their conflict will be explored further as the chapters go on.**

**Reviews would be lovely, thanks for reading.**

—**Ariana**


	2. Intimidating Prospects

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and at least favorited and alerted. And to the anon reviewer who commented on the Wasabi Warrior's outfits mentioned in the prologue at the beginning of chapter one: Yes, I have noticed that the WW's competition uniforms are…purple and orange, strangely, but I thought their main colors were always blue and green and white—Wasabi Warriors, you know? It's like their theme colors. I'll just go with green and white for now because purple and orange sound a bit…bold. And in response to one more reviewer, who asked about the soccer maneuver Jack performed at the end of last chapter—it was a bicycle kick, look up some videos on YouTube if you're interested!**

**I'm trying to keep the number of OC's in this story down to a minimum, but I'm afraid there will have to be a few as it's in an entire soccer team. I mention a couple in this chapter and there's only really one you meet so far—and I'm going to attempt to describe her as best as I can so you don't just forget her as soon as you meet her.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It or _The Taming Of The Shrew,_ the play written by William Shakespeare mentioned in this chapter.**

* * *

><p><em>"If we had taken our chances we would have won, at least."<em>

…

—_David O'Leary_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO: Intimidating Prospects<strong>

"Jack."

The dark-haired teen groaned at the mention of his name, that one word yanking him from a peaceful sleep. His dream, comprised of ballerinas, frozen yogurt, and dancing gummy bears, disappeared in an instant, leaving nothing but darkness and the feeling of emptiness.

The second voice was vaguely familiar as well. "_Jack…_"

Jack rolled over and sighed, turning to face the wall, attempting to block out the voices by clapping his hands over his ears. "Jerry, Eddie—go away."

A bright flash of red-hot light slashed at Jack's eyes through the thin cover of his eyelids, and he moaned in discontent before swinging a hand out, managing to hit someone in the ribs, and snatched the pillow from under his head, shielding his searing eyelids. The cool, soft material provided welcome darkness that his eyelids just couldn't give.

"I told you guys not to open the window," Milton commented softly. "It's too bright for his eyes."

Jerry's voice was defensive. "Hey, I thought light would wake him up! It's dark in here!"

More mumbling.

"Go…away…" Jack pleaded, trying to hang on to his last remnants of sleep.

"No, guys, don't do that." Milton's practical, reasonable voice filtered into his hearing, the slightly scolding tone putting an effective stop to the muffled whispers he'd been listening to. "That's not—"

Suddenly, without warning, two bodies clambered onto his mattress and starting jumping up and down vigorously, tangling Jack up in his blankets and throwing him back and forth like a rag doll. Jerry and Eddie were hooting loudly, laughing in exhilaration as they managed to bounce Jack right off of his bed and onto the hard floor.

Jack glared up at the two perched on his bed as Milton, uttering several apologizes, helped him up. "Okay, was that really necessary?"

Jerry held up his hands, the perfect picture of innocence. "Hey, as your roommate, I took it upon myself to wake you up this morning, as you're probably going to have to do that for me for the rest of the semester—"

Eddie cut in. "Jerry's not good with waking up in the morning…"

"Be that as it may," Milton shot them both withering glances. "Jack, you slept for a long time. You'd better be glad that your first day was a Friday and that today happens to be Saturday, or you'd be toast."

Rubbing his eyes, Jack sank back down onto his mattress. "What time is it?"

"Almost twelve in the morning."

Jack's eyes widened, all traces of sleep disappearing from his system as his head swiveled to the side, double-checking the digital clock to make sure. The electronic device only confirmed Milton's words. "It's almost _lunchtime?_ How was I not informed of this?"

Jerry shrugged, kicking at Jack's dresser with a guilty look in his eye. "I wanted you to sleep, man! You looked dead last night!"

"…Thanks."

"Was that sarcasm?" Eddie questioned curiously.

Milton waved the two off. "Jack, we'll wait outside once you get changed—we can go eat lunch together. It's a great day outside, we can show you around campus a bit more."

"Yeah, okay," Jack agreed, stretching as the three boys filed out of the room.

After a quick shower and a change into fresh, clean clothes—his usual Vans, jeans, and plaid shirt—he stepped out into the hallway, tucking his iPhone into his back pocket. Julie was there as well, adding to their slowly growing group of people. She looked much more casual than she had yesterday at lunch, and she was now wearing a simple skirt paired with a colorful cardigan. Julie and Milton's hands were intertwined, and Jack had to smile at their obvious affection for each other.

Jerry and Eddie, on the other hand, were currently in the process of engaging in a vigorous thumb war. Not as romantic.

"Ha! I win!" Eddie exclaimed victoriously after squishing Jerry's thumb for ten seconds.

Jerry pulled away with a hurt expression. "No, you do not. Rematch?"

"Guys!" Jack clapped his hands to get their attention. "Do you want lunch?"

"Ooh, food." Eddie drew back his hand from Jerry's and eagerly headed out of the boy's dormitory building, followed by everyone else.

The dining hall wasn't nearly as full as it had been yesterday at lunch or at dinner—in fact, the number of people seemed to have diminished by almost one half. After grabbing a large lunch, compensating for the breakfast he'd missed out on, Jack followed Milton's lead to the rectangular table they'd sat at yesterday, muttering to him, "Is it just me or have half the people disappeared?"

Milton cast an interested glance around the cafeteria before the curiosity faded out of his blue eyes. "No. Well, yes, there are about half the people missing, but no, they haven't just randomly disappeared. You can sign out in the front office if you want to go into town, a couple of miles over—there's a bus that takes kids back and forth. Girls usually go shopping, sometimes guys do, people go on dates, go to the movies, etc. Oh, and it's the weekend—there's no set time for lunch, so anyone eats at whatever time they please."

"Got it," Jack nodded, filing that piece of information away in his head for further reference.

"So, anyway," Milton started, his tone businesslike as he forked a portion of salad into his mouth with practiced manners. "Do you guys want to scrimmage later? I saw Kat practicing goal kicks this morning, maybe she can play as well. For all I know, she's still on the field."

Jack's eyebrows drew together. He felt puzzled and a bit out of the loop, as everyone else was nodding in agreement. "Kat?"

"Defender on our soccer team," Julie whispered in his ear, and he made a note to remember that.

"Do you want to play?" Jerry burst out eagerly, fixing Jack with his large, hopeful eyes. "Come on, man! We need a strong forward on our team this year—one of our forwards last year didn't come back and dude, we _need—_"

Jack waved his pudding-covered spoon cautiously in the air, attempting to block the flow of Jerry's frantic words while taking careful care not to flick dark chocolate dessert onto Eddie's face. "I'll scrimmage with you guys," Jack consented. "But I'll have to think about trying out."

Jerry opened his mouth indignantly, but at one stern look from Milton, he thought twice and he stuffed a cheese stick into it instead.

* * *

><p>"Right," Milton nodded pompously. "We'll just scrimmage here today."<p>

The group of five was now standing on one side of the soccer field. The wind was blowing slightly, nothing too major, but still noticeable, offering a nice, chilling breeze. They'd explained their positions on the team, for Jack's benefit—from what he remembered, Jerry was the sole goalie of the team, Eddie played solid defense, and Milton and Julie served as midfielders.

Interesting. Not a single one of them was a forward.

Jerry had jogged off towards the opposite goal, where Jack could see a figure, presumably female, now aiming kicks at the goal. The kicks were nearly perfect, flawless shots that flew into the nets at strategic angles.

After Jerry had dragged the new girl over in order to even out the teams, they all readjusted their positions to form what slightly resembled a circle. The girl Jack had never seen before looked to be Asian, with dark eyes, a clear, tan complexion, and long, silky black hair that flowed down to the middle of her back, gently waving on its way down. She tugged absentmindedly on her casual t-shirt and her running shorts before bending down to tie her shoelaces.

"Oh, Jack," Milton hurriedly filled in, looking from Jack to the other girl with a smile plastered on his face, no doubt noticing the awkward silence that had plagued the circle after the arrival of the girl. "This is—"

She cut him off, evidently preferring to introduce herself instead of having someone else do it for her. "I'm Kat. You're in my Chemistry class," she waved, as if she were unsure whether to shake his hand or not. "Like I said, I'm Kat—and don't ask me what my real first name is or I will _kill _you—"

Eddie grinned mischievously at those words, apparently choosing not to heed them. "Katerina!" he supplied for Jack, despite Kat's threat.

Kat glared at Eddie so ferociously that Jack was surprised that red-hot lasers didn't shoot out of the dark orbs and burn holes through him. "Yeah," she gritted her teeth. "Katerina. _That's _my first name. _Never _call me that, got it?"

Jack nodded in confirmation. "Crystal-clear…_Kat._ Wait—Katerina, like from the Shakespeare play? Katerina Minola, in _The Taming Of The Shrew_?"

"She has about as many mood swings as the character does, yeah," Jerry snickered. "And dude, she's just as sarcastic. I always tell her to take her anger management pills before she goes to practice…"

Jack was wholesomely surprised that Jerry even knew who Shakespeare _was—_and now he was comparing Kat to the character? Impressive.

Kat's lips curved up in an approving smile at Jack's literary reference; either she hadn't heard Jerry's comment or she was trying very hard to ignore it, despite the fact that Jack was convinced she was independent, sarcastic, and had chronic temper issues. "She went by Katherine, Katherina, Kate, and Kat as well, but yeah. You read Shakespeare?"

"It was required eighth grade reading," Jack shrugged.

She flashed him a warm smile. "Fair enough. On a different note, I hear from Jerry that you play forward…"

"Yeah."

"Nice, I play defense," she complimented. "Don't take this weirdly, but you have the build for it. Are you considering trying out for the team?"

Jack was starting to detect a slight hint of a British accent in her voice. It wasn't noticeable at first, but the way she spoke was a bit different, more elegant and refined than someone like Jerry. "Um, maybe," he replied in answer to her question. "But…don't take this the wrong way, but have you lived in England? Are you…British?"

Kat shrugged, rolling her shoulders to loosen them up as she stared up at the sky for a long moment, her eyes eventually traveling down to rest on Jack's brown ones. "Er, yeah. My family's originated from China, though. I lived in London for about five years—my dad was there for business and didn't want to separate the family. I'm surprised you could tell, actually—I thought I was losing my accent…"

Jack had to crack a smile. "No, I could tell. Just don't start talking about crumpets and tea, okay?"

Kat snorted sarcastically. "As if. I had enough of that rubbish in England. Buttered crumpets, my god…they were good the first fifty times…I can't even look at them without feeling like I'm going to vomit up my stomach, and quite possibly all my intestines…"

"Gross," Jerry commented.

"I'd like to try crumpets sometime," Eddie offered.

Kat rolled her eyes at Eddie. "Honestly, Eddie, you'd like to try any kind of food."

"True."

"We're back!" Milton announced.

Jack spun around and was met with Milton and Julie walking back up the field, a soccer ball in one of Milton's hands and Julie's hand in his other. Jack hadn't even noticed the couple go off and get a ball from where Kat had been practicing her shots, but then again, he'd been engaged in conversation. Kat was an interesting person, even if she was a bit different. Jack had a feeling that she'd be great to have on your side in a fight, but if she were on the other team, you wouldn't want to mess with her.

"Let's start," Milton announced. "Me, Julie, and Jerry on one team. Eddie, Jack, and Kat on the other!"

Jack grinned, passing the ball back and forth between his feet. "Let's play a game of soccer."

* * *

><p>"That was awesome, guys!"<p>

Jerry's cheerful voice, followed by a, "WOOO!", brought a smile to Jack's lips as the group of six started down the sloping hill and set off for the dining hall to grab a few quick cold drinks. They'd been playing for nearly two hours, stopping for minimal breaks while they took turns explaining how the team worked.

The captain was in charge of most things—deciding who to play in the games and who got what position, and who made the final cut or not. The coach handled more of the finances and offered wisdom when needed, but Bobby Wasabi was a private school—the students ran everything here. Games were played almost every weekend, and they usually took place at one of the teams' school fields. The sidelines were equipped with metal benches for spectators to sit on—parents, teachers, other students, etc.

Milton, it also transpired, was the team's unofficial 'manager'. He played midfield, but also helped the captain with little things, and spent a lot of time with the coach.

"Will you join the team now, Jack?" Jerry had pressed eagerly after ranting on about how much respect the team received from the school, the teachers, and the whole town itself.

Apparently, the soccer team's goal this year was to beat out Seaford Preparatory, another private school in the area, for the chance to go to the state finals. Bobby Wasabi always came out second when it came to the playoffs, and somehow Jerry was convinced that this was their year to finally go to state.

In response to Jerry's question, Jack gave a noncommittal shrug. "Maybe."

"Well, that was fun," Kat remarked as she patted Jack on the back. "Great job, by the way. You're a talented forward. Great footwork…really neat."

The scrimmage had gone relatively well. Kat was an excellent defender, as he'd suspected, and not a single ball got past the makeshift goal they'd put together. Jack and Eddie had teamed up, with Jack playing more of a forward and Eddie helping with Kat, as Eddie was a defender as well and was more comfortable playing that position.

Jack had to admit that all of them—Milton, Jerry, Eddie, Julie, and Kat—though some of them didn't look it, all of them were extremely talented and he could see now why they were on the school's soccer team. Heck, Julie was playing in a _skirt_ and she'd still managed to knock the ball away from Jack's feet a couple of times. Jerry was a top-notch goalie, succeeding in bouncing fast balls expertly off of his body before taking it and passing it to someone else.

And as for Jack himself…he was actually surprised at how well he'd still played. After all, it had been a while since he'd gotten onto a soccer field with the actual intention of playing soccer.

"Oh my god!" Jerry started to babble in obvious delight after Kat's mention of Jack's talent. "You're even better than I expected!"

Jack shrugged modestly. "I'm a bit rusty, actually—"

"No!" Milton exclaimed. "You're perfect for forward! We have one forward with a great shooting accuracy but I think you're better at dribbling and fakes and maneuvers than her. My god, you'd be _so_ great for the team—"

And this was when the excited goalie, who had been muttering excitedly to himself during Milton's little speech, started to change his sentences into Spanish. The foreign language started to flow faster and faster with every passing second. Jack had taken two years of Spanish, but his public school education couldn't really compare to the speed of Jerry's words. He only caught a few vocab terms and the most he could draw from the lengthy sentences was that Jerry was obviously very happy.

"Hold it there, cowboy," Kat interjected dryly, a sarcastic smile forming on her face. "You do realize that first, Jack isn't even on the team yet? Tryouts are on Monday, and the captain gets the final say on who's in and who's not."

"So you don't think he's talented?" Eddie countered, raising his voice slightly to be heard over Jerry's rapid Spanish.

Kat snorted. "Of course I do!" Kat squeezed Jack's shoulder reassuringly, flashing him a warm, encouraging smile. "Jack, you're super-talented, I'm not denying any of that. I just don't want to get your hopes up—or anyone's, for that matter."

"Always the cynical one, aren't you, Kat?"

Kat smirked in amusement. "I do try, you know."

Julie rolled her eyes, nudging Jack in the ribs. "Jerry tends to get carried away…"

"I've noticed," Jack smiled in reply, his own enthusiasm beginning to heat up. "But hey, I haven't played soccer in years—I want to start up again. You know what? I'll try out! And if I don't make it, I'll be there at every game to cheer you guys on."

Jerry finally made the transition from Spanish back to English, just in time to tackle Jack in a ferocious hug. "_Yes!_" Jerry shrieked in victory.

An easy, relaxed smile spread across Jack's face. After all, why _shouldn't_ he try out? He'd need some physical activity, some extracurricular after-school organization to keep him busy, and the soccer team was the perfect opportunity. Plus, they needed a new forward, and Jack _knew_ he was good. "I'll sign up as soon as we get back inside."

"Perfect," Milton beamed at him. "Jack, you have endless talent—you'll make it onto the team, for sure…"

Jack turned to Kat, wanting her to voice her opinion, as she'd seemed realistic and down-to-earth so far, but her face paled a bit.

_Uh oh. _

"Wait…Milton…there's history there…" Kat's eyes traveled from Jack to Milton again and she mouthed something that Jack couldn't make out.

_'History there'?_

An apprehensive expression dawned on Milton's face. "Uh-oh…I see what you mean now, Kat. The _captain…_"

Jack decided to press into the conversation. "Um…well…wait, who is this captain you guys keep talking about? Is he a senior? Big and scary?" A nervous laugh escaped Jack's lips. "You never really mentioned his name."

Eddie coughed uncomfortably. "Well, first off all, it's a she, but don't let the gender intimidate you. Second, she's a junior, like us."

"Who is it?"

Jerry was about to reply but Kat elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't _tell_ him, it'll scare him off!"

Jack was beginning to grow even more alarmed now. "Wait, who _is_ this chick?"

"It's Kim Crawford," Julie informed him, her enthusiastic manner now nervous, as if she were anticipating Jack's reaction to be explosive and destructive.

Jack's face fell, his spirits dropping quickly. "Kim? Really?"

Why was it that this girl kept popping up everywhere he seemed to go? It was like her reputation liked to follow him and keep reminding Jack that he'd knocked her over yesterday, and it was getting highly irritating.

"Oh, well, then I don't think I'll be trying out," Jack answered decisively.

Jerry grabbed Jack's shoulder. "Why not, man?"

Jack snorted sarcastically. "Have you _seen_ the way Kim looks at me? As soon as I show up at tryouts, she's going to kill me! And _I like living!_"

"If I could say something," Kat attempted to keep her tone soothing, "I just want to tell you, Jack, that Kim's not all that bad. Yes, she has a temper—"

"Just like you," Eddie muttered under his breath.

Kat glared at Eddie, who shrank slightly under her penetrating gaze, before directing her attention back towards Jack. "Look, Kim might be sarcastic, tough, and have some temper issues, but she's great captain—you just got on her wrong side the very first day. She's really a great friend if you get to know her…and if you would have happened to meet her for the first time without knocking her over…"

"Yeah, well, too late to change that," Jack muttered bitterly.

"Look," Kat stopped him completely, the rest of the group forming a small alliance behind her and on her sides. "Try out, okay? We could really use you."

Jack shook his head. "Guys, I want to play soccer with you guys, but as soon as Kim sees me at tryouts she'll throw me out."

"Just _try_ already!" Kat sighed in exasperation.

Jack narrowed his gaze. "You all _really_ want me to try out…?"

"_Yes!_" all of them chorused, rolling their eyes dramatically.

Jack breathed out. "Well, I've never been one to back down from a challenge…so fine. I'll go sign up as soon as we get back inside."

Jerry slapped Eddie and Jack high-fives as they neared the dining hall.

"Besides," Jack heard Eddie murmur to himself. "What's the worst that could happen? Kim will just say no!"

But personally, Jack could think of a _lot_ of things that the fiery blonde could say to him showing up at tryouts Monday afternoon—and not all of them very pleasant.

Well, this was going to be fun.

* * *

><p>"Nice to see you again, Kim."<p>

The blonde's semi-serious facial expression broke out into a grin as she shut the office door behind her, observing the familiar soccer coach's office, her dark eyes warm with relaxation and obvious comfort. "Nice to see you too, Rudy."

Rudy Evans, head coach of the soccer team, sprung up out of his seat and nearly tackled Kim in a ferocious hug. She stumbled back several steps, thrown off balance, attempting to pry him off of her. "I missed you so much!" he wailed. "I went the whole summer with just Tip-Tip to keep me company!"

Kim had to crack a smile at the mention of the beloved cat. "Where is Tip-Tip? You do know that cats—or any pets, for that matter—aren't allowed on school grounds?"

Rudy pointedly ignored her question, instead choosing to appear busy and businesslike by shuffling several stacks of papers and readjusting a pencil on a pile of old folders. "Right! So, the new soccer season…you've been leading the team very well this last year, I see no need to replace you as captain."

She shifted in her seat. "Thanks."

"So…" Rudy took his seat behind his desk as well, snatching a piece of notebook paper and a pencil from somewhere inside his desk drawers. "Who are you considering for this year's team so far?"

Kim leaned back thoughtfully. "Jerry, Eddie, Milton, Julie—"

"You're not picking the team based on friends, are you?" Rudy raised an eyebrow, just to tease her. "Because—"

"Rudy!" Kim exclaimed, an offended look taking hold of her expression. "You know I'm not like that. I pick the team based on their strengths, their dedication, their responsibility—"

The soccer coach chuckled, scribbling down the names. "Yeah, yeah…okay, so who else?"

"I'm thinking Kat will make a great defender, just like she was in the last two seasons," Kim remarked. "I saw her practicing her goal kicks early this morning—they were really strong—and she's already warming up for the season and tryouts are this coming Monday. She's dedicated."

Rudy frowned. "Kat. She has anger management and frequent mood swings…and likes to slap people in the face. Katerina _Chen_?"

"Yeah," Kim rolled her eyes. It was actually a pretty accurate description of Kat, though, now that she thought about it. Kat was generally pessimistic, seemed to have chronic PMS, and had a strong inability to follow the rules—but she was also a great friend and teammate to have. "You know her, Rudy! She won't do anything much worse than hurt you…although she did slap Ricky from Seaford Prep last year after proclaiming him an asshole and ended up earning herself a yellow card…"

"Yep, she's just like you," Rudy nodded. "Anyway. Any more players?"

Kim continued to ponder, turning over the strengths and weaknesses from the players last year. "Um…Kyle, Rue, Grace, Kelsey…maybe Evan…Pete…"

Rudy processed all the names Kim rattled off before glancing down at the list, furrowing his brow, and commenting, "No new players?"

"I haven't seen any good ones," Kim shrugged. "During the afternoons after school, I sometimes go to the field and look for new players that have potential, ones that happen to practice—but all I see are the old ones."

Rudy turned over her words carefully inside his head, struggling to come up with a useful, helpful solution. "Well, that's not much of a problem. The team we had last year was amazing."

"But that's just it," Kim elaborated earnestly. "They were good, but they weren't good enough to beat Seaford Prep! I love every single player from the team last season to death—even the guys—but—"

The office door suddenly popped open with a loud bang.

Kim jumped, a small shriek escaping her lips, and Rudy dived behind the desk at the sudden noise before his head peeked over the wooden surface, his expression meek.

To Kim's surprise, several players and friends of hers from the soccer team streamed into the room in a line, all of them evidently excited about some mysterious thing. She took a quick head count, getting down all the names and their various levels of excitement.

_Milton Krupnick, Eddie Stevenson, Julie Alexander, Jerry Martinez, Kat Chen…_

Jerry, especially, was vibrating and stuttering with delight. Kim could practically see the enthusiasm rolling off of him in cheery, sun-beam-filled rays that seemed to brighten the room.

"Guys!" Kim hissed. "Why are you in here? I'm discussing things with Rudy for the team this season—"

Jerry shook his head. "But this is important. He's new but he _has_ to join the team, he's so good!"

Kim continued, "And this—wait, what?"

The next things Kim heard were simply detached phrases, strings of words that seemed to pertain to one thing, but she couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, as they all began to talk at once, their words mixing and blending in with each other. The tones of the sentences were positive but that's about all she was drawing from the snippets of conversation.

"—he's _so good_!"

"Kim, you _have _to let him join the team—"

"—performed a bicycle kick, out of the blue, yesterday!"

"—could win for us—"

"Oh my god, he's _great_ at forward—"

Kim threw her hands up in the air and screeched, using her best captain voice: "_Stop!_"

The players all fell into stunned silence. Kim took a deep breath before continuing, in her calmest voice, "There's a new player? One that happens to be good?"

"Yes, and he's absolutely _amazing—_"

Kim waved impatiently at Jerry to be quiet.

Every single one of the five players looked enthusiastic about this mysterious new player—Kim didn't even know his or her name yet. She had gathered, though, that he or she was experienced and talented at playing offensively, but…did they really need to be this excited? About a new player? New players came every year—Kyle was a new player last year, and Pete.

"Kim," Julie spoke up after the blonde had lapsed into silence. "I think he really needs to join the team. He's got amazing dribbling techniques."

Kim rubbed her temples in frustration, "What is this kid's freaking _name?_"

Strangely, no one answered her.

Julie was the most calm, most collected girl on the team—if she was saying this, this must be worth listening to, right?

Kim scanned the players for another opinion, and her eyes sought out Kat's.

"Kat?" Kim asked in incredulous disbelief. "You're behind them on this too?"

Out of all of the players crammed into Rudy's office right now, Kat was probably the most _pessimistic_—heck, the most negative player on the entire team, Kim included. If she was this enthusiastic about this mysterious new player that seemingly had endless talent for dribbling and footwork, well, who was Kim to judge? They _were_ in need of a experienced forward if they wanted a shot at beating Seaford Prep this year, after all, so…why not?

Kat swiveled her head to look at Jerry, who was bobbing his head up and down frantically, begging her to say yes, before shrugging carelessly. "Okay, I might have overreacted a tiny bit—but Kim, I'm not denying it, he has serious talent, especially for dribbling. You _know_ we need another new forward if we want to kick Seaford Prep's butt this year. I know you got off to a rough start with Jack, but—"

"Wait," Kim gritted her teeth. "This new soccer prodigy—it's _Jack Anderson?_"

Kat bit her lip, her eyelids fluttering shut over her dark eyes, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know, you don't like Jack, but—"

"No."

Eddie's mouth dropped open in blatant disagreement. "But, Kim! Hear us out!"

"Jack?" Kim demanded, whirling around to come face-to-face with every player in the office. Rudy watched from a corner of the room. "No. No way. Anyone but him."

Kat crossed her arms, the raven-haired girl's usual temper now flaring up—Kim was surprised it had taken her this long to snap. Maybe she was improving in her anger management issues. "Kim, I know what happened between you and Jack, and honestly? Get over it! I'm saying this as a teammate and as a friend, but carrying this vendetta against him isn't good for you and it won't be good for the team this year. Jack is _excellent_ at forward. He was on my team during scrimmage today—"

"Oh, so you guys scrimmaged this afternoon as well?" Kim laughed sarcastically. "Let me guess, he was perfect."

Kat's glare matched Kim's, and the blonde and the brunette faced each other, both steely with resolve. "Normally, I wouldn't say anyone's perfect. And he's not. Jack is still rusty, because he hasn't played in about two years—but he is pretty damn close to being perfect, and we need that."

"I agree," Jerry piped up before he shut his mouth, courtesy of a death glare aimed at him by both Kim and Kat.

Kim threw her hands up, turning away from all the eager faces in the room and blocking out any requests for her to be rational, to listen to reason, to _calm down._ She stuffed the papers she'd been working plans out on with Rudy into her book bag and threw open the office door, stepping out with one final sentence: "_Anyone but him._"

Breathing heavily, she hesitated outside of the closed door for two seconds, waiting to see who would come after her.

No one did. Instead, they seemed to be conversing in hushed tones about Anderson.

_Anderson._

Her anger now increased by tenfold, she stormed down the hall and flung open the door that revealed the path to the soccer fields, only to be met with the devil himself.

Jack Anderson.

"What do you want?" she spat at him, her anger now skyrocketing out of control at his stupid, utter _perfection—_she could see it now, the soccer player in him, the build of his shoulders and his legs, the way he carried himself. The experience was there, right in front of her, the way he walked, the way he moved, she'd just been too stupid not to notice it until now…

He was a total freaking soccer prodigy.

And Kim hated that.

Dark eyes wide and slightly alarmed, he held up his hands and shook some brown hair out of his face. "Whoa, Kim, I was just looking for—"

"They're in there," Kim fumed, jerking a thumb back towards the soccer coach's office before pushing right past him, much to his confusion, and stomping down the path towards her dorm.

So what if she was acting like a total diva? Being captain of the soccer team required work.

And if the rest of the season was going to be as problematic as this, Kim figured she'd better work on releasing her anger _before_ it all came out in one big, hot mess.

But then again, hadn't it already?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: All right, don't get your panties in a twist, okay? Kat is _not_ a potential love interest for Jack, not at all—they're just friends. She's a random OC I had to throw together at the last moment, even though I've planned out most of the characters for this story. There was a bit more Kat/Jack interaction than I had planned, but Kat's not a bad character—she's just a bit cranky at times, haha. And has a huge temper. If this will make you feel better, Kat will actually have another love interest—another OC of mine.**

**So, it's revealed in this chapter that Kim is captain of the soccer team, and Jerry has convinced Jack into joining said soccer team—a huge problem, as already shown above. Now Jack doesn't want to be on the team because Kim's captain and is probably more than willing to a) reject him because she doesn't like him or b) flat-out kill him because she, again, doesn't like him. And Kim doesn't want Jack to be on the team now because they have a "history", haha. So much drama!**

**Anyway, I'll be back with another chapter...soon! **

**Review, my lovelies! **

**—A**


	3. Don't Rain On My Parade

**A/N: HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY (AND NIALL HORAN APPRECIATION DAY) GUYS! Thank you for all the reviews! They honestly made my day. If you're taking the time to favorite and alert, please review as well! I really need the feedback!**

**There is one direct reference to Pretty Little Liars in here, let's see who can spot it! I also introduce more OCs other than Kat—one of them appears at the very beginning. There is a long(er) A/N at the end so do read it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p><em>"Confidence is contagious. So is lack of confidence."<em>

_…_

—_Vince Lombardi_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE: Don't Rain On My Parade<strong>

"I absolutely _despise_ Mondays," Kat complained. "Why do they have to be so horrid?"

She received no answer.

Kyle Walker's shoulder shifted as he grabbed something from his backpack, jostling Kat's forehead in the process. The latter was currently resting her head on his shoulder, attempting to give her eyes a few seconds of rest before next period.

She groaned and grabbed his arm, struggling to keep it steady, unwilling to open her eyes for fear that she might just collapse from exhaustion. Mondays were the worst, and she felt like dropping her bags and books and just simply heading to her dorm, where she could sleep for ages without any interruptions or snobby prep school girls. "Stop," she protested. "You're my personal headrest. I didn't get to sleep a wink last night."

"Is your insomnia acting up again?" he asked worriedly, peeling his head off of his shoulder to get a good look at her eyes.

Kat desperately wrapped her arms around his waist in an attempt to still his movements, dropping her head back onto his shoulder, her sarcastic edge taking over. "No, Kyle, I just _love_ staying up until the wee hours of the morning! And wait—no, stay there. Perfect."

"I know you have a crush on me," Kyle began to tease, "But I think—"

He didn't get out another word before Kat had reached up and swatted at his other shoulder blindly, sending the book in his hands toppling from his fingers and onto the ground.

"I don't have a crush on you," she mumbled incoherently as Kyle bent down to retrieve the fallen book, the steady warmth under Kat's forehead disappearing in an instant and leaving her feeling empty without it.

With a sigh, she straightened up and stared at his locker with a bored expression on his face, before spotting something and taking a closer look. "Why do you have a _torch_ in there?"

Kyle frowned in confusion. "Torch?"

Kat flushed red, silently cursing her British vocabulary. "Oh, sorry, my bad. I meant flashlight."

"Ah, British terms," Kyle smirked, his familiar blue eyes sending a flash of warmth through her veins. She stiffened, unfamiliar with the feeling. "Would it kill you to speak a little more like a normal person every now and then?"

"Would it kill you to be a little more sophisticated every now and then?" she retorted, trying not to laugh at his imitation of a British accent and attempting to shake the heated sensation from her shoulders.

Kyle shrugged. "Fair point. Back to the original topic…I kind of doubt there'd be an actual fiery flashlight—excuse me, _torch_—in my locker, don't you think? And as for why it's in there…Pete and I were playing Flashlight Tag last night outside the dorms. It was boring with two people, and we almost got caught after lights out."

"A bit childish, don't you think?" Kat grinned. "Besides, last night? We've got tryouts today. You don't even look half as tired as me. I hate you. You always look awake and I always feel like total sh—"

Kyle ran a hand through his short, brown hair, effectively spiking up the front. "Whoa, Kat, no need to cuss. First of all, you hate Mondays. You're always tired on Mondays."

She grinned and bumped his shoulder. "No, really?"

"Speaking of tryouts," Kyle continued, "Isn't there a new guy everyone's gushing about? Jerry was ranting about him to me today as we were in the lunch line. Wasn't he scrimmaging with you, Milton, Jerry, Eddie, and Julie on Saturday? I heard he was great at forward."

"He is," Kat began with a smile on her face. "His name is Jack, and—"

"Kat! Hey, Kat!" she heard a familiar voice greet.

"And there he is now," Kat smiled, twisting around to search the halls for the person calling out her name. She sought out the student soon enough—a brunet just a few inches taller than her, slightly shaggy brown hair, and chocolate-colored brown eyes.

"Oh, well, I can't wait to meet him," Kyle enthused.

Kat smiled, attempting to shake off her fatigue in order to make the newcomer feel welcome. "Hey, Jack," she greeted as soon as he came within earshot. She shrugged off her dark green blazer, slinging it over her book bag, and adjusted her white button-down shirt, fiddling with her green-and-gray striped tie—it was starting to get hot, and soccer tryouts would be in an hour or so. The San Jose weather was breezy and cool today, but shedding the extra layer of clothing felt to her as if she'd taken off a lead jacket. She rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt to her elbow.

"Hey."

Kat didn't notice the uncomfortable tension between Jack and Kyle for a few more seconds, but quickly snapped out of her daze once it came to her attention. "Oh, right, introductions. Jack, this is Kyle, Kyle, this is Jack, the new player everyone's talking about. Jack, Kyle's on the soccer team as well, you'll see him at tryouts today…"

Jack held out a hand to Kyle, who took it with a grin. "Hey, man, it's nice to meet you," Jack nodded politely.

"Nice to meet you too! So you're the soccer prodigy everyone's talking about…I heard you were trying out for the team," Kyle commented. "Think you'll make it?"

Jack took a deep breath before letting it out, a doubtful grin tugging up the corners of his lips, his wry expression sending an uneasy feeling through Kat. "Yeah, well, if Kim happens to let me. She hates me right now."

As Jack and Kyle continued to talk, Kat examined the both of them. Kyle seemed relaxed and welcoming, his usual laid-back self, while Jack seemed…tense. On edge. It was a far cry from the relaxed personality she'd seen during scrimmage just two days ago, where he'd been comfortable and coolly confident, but with definite warmth to his words.

Upon further examination, Jack seemed to appear…a little _green_ to her. "Jack, are you alright?" Kat raised her eyebrows as she leaned closer. He seemed to be hyperventilating…just a little bit. "You're looking kind of green. I think your facial color is taking on the same shade as your blazer…"

"Um…"

Kat laughed, finally pinpointing his cause of anxiety. "Nervous about tryouts? Me too, but there's no need to be turning green, yeah? Make sure you drink enough water, we can't have you collapsing on the fields."

Jack breathed out slowly, his inhalations shaky and nervous. "Well, Kim doesn't hate you two like she hates me. I'd be surprised if she didn't kick me off the field as soon as she saw me."

"Look, Jack," Kyle reasoned, coming to Kat's rescue. "It's just soccer tryouts, like you're trying out for any other team—"

"Only with a vicious captain," Jack muttered under his breath.

Kat had to suppress a smile.

"All we do," Kyle continued, "Is do basic soccer drills so she can see what you're good at and what you're not. Dribbling around cones, shooting at the goal in pairs, things like that. It's not that big of a deal, so relax. It won't be hard."

"Yeah," Kat echoed, giving Jack a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Relax, okay?"

She grinned in relief when she saw the glimmer of confidence she'd first noticed upon meeting Jack reappear in the brunet's dark eyes. His voice was now ten times stronger as he breathed out determinedly, his normal, carefree, positive manner back. "Right. Just tryouts. The worst she can do is say no to me being on the team, right?"

"Of course," Kat encouraged him. "And before I forget—do you have everything? Shin guards, cleats, socks?"

Jack nodded, an upbeat grin stretching across his face. "Yeah, I got those this weekend. I'd better get to class now, sorry…my classroom is on the other side of the school. I just wanted to say hi, Kat. And it was nice to meet you, Kyle!"

With that, the talented soccer player departed, obviously in a hurry. The crowded hallway was beginning to disperse, as the bell for the last period of the day was going to ring in about two minutes. Jack seemed to blend into the steady stream of students completely, his dark green blazer disappearing seamlessly into the crowd.

"Wow," Kyle shrugged, slamming his locker shut as he and Kat began to head for Home Economics down the hall. "He was looking for _you_, huh?"

Kat reached up and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Shut it."

"What, do you have a crush on him?" Kyle teased. "Does the almighty Kat have a crush on the newbie?" His voice morphed into a pitch several octaves higher, his attempt to sound sophisticated failing miserably. "Oh my, my, my, our lovely Katerina Chen _fancies _Jack Anderson!"

"What?" Kat retorted. "Are you jealous? One, don't call me Katerina, and two, I _don't _fancy him. Three…I'm lovely, am I?"

Kyle blushed red.

She smirked at his obvious discomfort, adding, "And by the way, your fake British accent is terrible."

Kyle shrugged. "Hey, I'm not the Brit, you are."

Now Kat grinned, her mood lightened considerably by their usual banter. "Come on, we have Home Ec next—and maybe we'll get to bake something before tryouts today, I could really use the extra energy. Lunch was _ages_ ago."

"With Mrs. Marin as our teacher?" Kyle snorted, following after her retreating figure. "Don't bet on it, Kat."

* * *

><p>"Are those new?"<p>

Jack bent down to retie his right cleat and managed to look up at the same time, only to be met with Jerry's curious expression, directed at his shoes.

"Yeah, why?" he answered as he straightened up again.

Jack had gone out this weekend into the nearest town, following Milton's instructions, and bought some new cleats, shin guards, and socks; he hadn't brought his old equipment to the school, not knowing he would need it, and they surely wouldn't fit him anyway. There still wasn't a guarantee that he was going to get onto the team, but it felt nice to walk around in cleats and shin guards again.

He'd missed playing soccer.

Jerry shrugged. "Just wondering. Are you feeling okay?"

Jack bit his lip and slid onto the metal bench, attempting to be subtle in the glances he was giving the fierce blonde captain. Kim was standing in the middle of the field, conversing quietly with the head coach—if Jack remembered correctly, his name was Rudy. She was scribbling furiously on a clipboard and constantly looking around at all the new players.

Bright orange practice cones were set up everywhere, marking the various drills they were most likely going to be required to perform. A cardboard box containing multicolored practice jerseys sat near one of the goalposts, and soccer balls dotted the field in tiny groups.

"Jack…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" Jack replied hurriedly, just now realizing that he hadn't given Jerry a decent answer. "I'm a little nervous, but…well…if I don't make it, I don't make it, right?"

Milton strolled up happily with Julie and Eddie in tow, a bright lime-green headband with the words _Bobby Wasabi_ stitched across the fabric perched atop his head. "Hey, Jack! Jerry! Ready for tryouts?"

Jack's eyes swept over the small group before he leaned forward. "Julie…where are your glasses?"

The delicate lenses usually worn by the midfielder had vanished, and Julie shrugged, smiling. "I usually prefer to wear contacts while playing soccer—but when I'm studying I like to wear glasses."

Jack was about to reply, but he was cut off by a male voice.

"Hey, everybody! Over here!"

Players from all around the field jogged towards Kim and Rudy, the person who had called out. They assembled in a sort of puddle around the two leaders, and Rudy stepped forward, handing the clipboard to Kim and raising his hands in a welcoming gesture.

Jack liked him already.

"Welcome to a new semester of soccer at Bobby Wasabi Private School!" Rudy grinned cheerfully. "I'm the head coach, Rudy Evans, and I've been coaching the soccer team for the past three years—"

"Along with your cat," Jack heard a voice snicker from behind him.

Slight giggles spread throughout the group of players, but Rudy took no notice. "Now, let me introduce your captain of two semesters, Kim Crawford!"

The cheering was slightly more enthusiastic this time, and the aforementioned blonde stepped forward, clipboard in hand. "Hey guys. A lot of you know me, as we're in the same grade, but for those of you who don't, I'm Kim Crawford, a junior. I've been captain for a year now and this will be my third season leading the team. I'm usually a center forward during games."

"WOO!" Jerry whooped supportively.

Kim flashed him a quick smile of appreciation before her expression transformed into a businesslike mask. "Okay—for tryouts today, there are several stations set out on the field. Rudy will be taking observations the whole tryout, and I'll join him for part of the time to see who's got potential and who doesn't. At the end, we'll clear everything away and have a big scrimmage. Over here is the shooting station…"

Jack watched as she jogged a few feet away and picked up a ball near the goal. "Get with a partner and get in two lines, pass the ball back and forth to each other, and the person on the right, take a shot once you're close enough. Alternate lines. The point of this is to see how accurately you can shoot and how much strength you have."

As if to explain further, she quickly retreated a few steps from the ball and then sped forward, so quickly that she blurred before Jack's eyes.

The next thing he knew, the ball had flown into the goal, a perfect shot so high up and yet so accurate that Jack was convinced no goalie could have reached it.

_What just happened?_

As the ball bounced onto the ground, the majority of the players erupted into applause, and Jack was surprised to see Kim actually blushing a light shade of pink. Surprise gave way to pure awe, and he stared at the ball that was currently nestled in the net of the goal, putting all his effort into forcing his jaw not to drop open.

That was, officially, the hardest he had ever seen anyway kick a soccer ball—himself included.

Wow.

"As you can see," Kim shrugged, "My main strengths are shooting and accuracy. Being a forward, I can dribble—I have to—but I'm better at shooting."

She explained a few more drills, walking them around the field and voicing the instructions for each one, with Rudy popping in on random moments to give bits of advice and wisdom. Jack's eyes absorbed the cones and equipment set out across the field, and his nerves started buzzing with his usual pre-soccer energy—a feeling he hadn't felt in a while.

"So," Kim placed her hands on her hips, smiling as she finished up explaining the last part of the tryout. Her eyes seemed to find Jack's for one small moment, her cheerful gaze darkening for a fraction of a second.

Several heads turned to see what she was so preoccupied about, and Jack looked pointedly off to the side.

The blonde grinned. "Let's start tryouts."

* * *

><p>"The new kid's doing pretty well, don't you think?" Rudy commented, scribbling something on his clipboard.<p>

Kim had joined the players for the first part of practice, getting a feel of what it was like playing with them again after a whole summer, familiarizing herself with their dribbling and scoring styles once again. Now she was circling the stations slowly with Rudy, comparing notes and writing things for future reference in her notebook.

"His name is Jack, right? He's very talented," Rudy continued, as if he were hoping to bait an answer out of her.

She really didn't feel like plunging into another mood swing, and certainly not in front of Rudy—not after the office fiasco—so she simply shrugged her shoulders carelessly, bending down to adjust her right shin guard before straightening up again. "He's fine."

Rudy sighed, a tired smile forming on his face as he stretched his arm. "You really don't like him, huh?"

Kim's brown eyes focused on Jack, about twenty feet away from her. The dark-haired player was currently dribbling a soccer ball back and forth, weaving between the complicated array bright orange cones with a graceful ease that seemed to set Kim's nerves on edge, for some reason.

Again, the soccer player in him, all those traits, popped into her mind, repeating endlessly and without pause.

_Strong body._

_Trained legs._

_Impeccable balance._

_The right poise…_

She jerked her head in what she hoped was a cold manner. "He's fine."

"You've said that twice now," Rudy teased her. "Why don't you like him? He's super-talented, especially at dribbling. Plus, he's really polite—I bumped into him on Sunday, we talked for a little bit. Apparently, he played for a select team, FC Dallas, back in Texas."

Kim continued to observe Jack, and as if to prove Rudy's point, he finished up dribbling around the cones with a complicated maneuver and passed it back to the front of the line, where Kyle received it and started repeating the same drill.

Kim decided to ignore his first question, as even she didn't know the answer to why she strongly disliked Jack so much. The answer eluded her, even after thinking about it for a long time—not that she _thought_ about Jack in her free time, that is…

"I know he is," Kim admitted.

"So…?"

"So what?" Kim demanded impatiently. What else did Rudy want from her? "I've already conceded that he's very talented. Do I need to present him with a medal, too?"

Rudy sighed in exasperation, too smart by now to even attempt to argue with the heated blonde, and ambled off towards the other side of the field, where Jerry was currently defending the goal for the first drill she'd explained.

She stood alone in the middle of the field, watching Jack out of the corner of her eye as she took notes on other players—_Kyle's getting better at penalty kicks, Kat needs to work on her dribbling, Pete looks like he's improved, Jerry needs new goalie gloves—his are getting a bit old…_

When it was Jack's turn at the dribbling drill again, she actually dropped the arm holding the clipboard to her side and stuck her pen behind her ear, watching him and only him, regardless of the smirks Kat was sending her way. All throughout the tryouts so far—it had been almost an hour since the beginning—she'd been focusing especially on Jack, to see what he what his reaction would be to several different tactics she'd thought up. Most of her "tactics" were just acting like she didn't care about him or disapproved of every single thing he was doing.

Jack received the soccer ball from Pete and glanced up, meeting Kim's penetrating gaze before breathing out nervously, flicking an anxious glance her way and starting the drill again.

_So, apparently, Jack cares about what I think of him,_ she noted mentally as she observed his movements as he twisted and turned through the cones. His turns were sharper and choppier than she'd witnessed before, and she bit her lip, wondering what was wrong with him. She'd seen him perform the same moves flawlessly just five minutes ago.

At the end, he looked up and met her eyes, as if to receive her judgment.

Kim simply gave him a small frown, a minimal shake of the head, and turned away, scribbling something on her notes, fully aware that his hopeful gaze had crumbled and he was talking quietly with Kat, as if seeking reassurance.

They were now both glancing his way.

Kim pulled her pen away from the paper and threw him one last, dispassionate glance, her eyes flicking down to what she'd written about him.

_Jack: Talented. Nothing but talent, nothing but stupid PERFECTION._

_Team Member (Y or N): ? Must see now he does at Initiation._

_..._

_?_

The silver whistle hanging around her neck was brought up to her lips, and a shrill blast of air escaped the tiny device as she blew fiercely into it. "Hey, everyone!" she screamed, projecting her voice to be heard above the players conversing on the other side of the field. Once she was certain she had snatched everyone's attention, she continued with a smile. "Great job so far, guys. Take five, rest, get some water, and we'll scrimmage. And then we'll be done for the day, okay?"

All the potential players started dragging themselves towards the metallic benches, where their water bottles and their towels were waiting for them. Kim had already received her fill of water and rest, and tossed her notebook on the side of the field, preparing to retrieve all the cones she'd set out for the drill in order to clear the field for scrimmage.

She hadn't realized there was someone behind her until a warm voice asked, "Do you mind if I help?"

Kim twisted around in surprise and was confronted with warm, chocolate-colored eyes. Jack Anderson balanced a water bottle in one hand and a stack of bright cones in the other, already halfway done with cleaning up one station.

She merely turned back around and continued performing the task with renewed vigor, muttering, "What do you want?"

"Do I necessarily have to want something to help you?" the brunet responded as he picked up another cone.

_So he's one of those helpful types,_ Kim noticed.

She was now halfway done with the field, the process going by much faster now that Jack was helping her. She shifted uncomfortably as she stood up, stretching her back, a few popping noises resulting in pure relief.

What she _wasn't_ relieved about, however, was that he wouldn't just go away.

"Kim…?" Jack prodded tentatively.

"What?" she snapped, finally making the effort to fully turn around, only to be met with the realization that he was much closer than she'd thought he was. Kim stumbled back a few inches or so, glaring at him, hoping that he could detect the annoyance clearly written across her face. Kim Crawford was the type to wear her heart out on her sleeve—so why didn't he take the hint and just leave her alone? If she had to be honest, she was a bit embarrassed about how dramatically she'd reacted to him and how mean she'd started being towards him, and Kimberly Crawford _hated_ admitting guilt.

She knew she was being a bit overboard with the drama queen/captain moments, but something about him just made her twitch. She couldn't pinpoint why, she just _felt_ it.

This boy was really ticking her off…

"I just—" Jack swallowed, before a sliver of confidence traveled into his eyes. He seemed to stand up straighter, a few inches taller than her own slender figure, his brown eyes blazing with resolve. "Why do you hate me so much?"

She considered her next words carefully before throwing any witty reply she'd thought up of out the window. "Why do you _think_ I hate you so much?"

"All I did was accidentally knock you over the first day," Jack attempted to reason with her. "And I apologized, like, fifty times. And all throughout tryouts, you've been looking at me like you hate me and making notes that I'm guessing aren't too nice, and you bumped into me on Saturday when coming out of Rudy's office, and—"

Kim snorted derisively. "You think I'm still mad at you for _knocking me over_?" she repeated incredulously, her voice as cold as ice.

"So what else have I done?" Jack demanded.

Kim attempted to turn away from him, the maneuver halted when he forcefully grabbed her shoulders and rotated her back around to face him, their faces inches apart from each other. She froze for one moment, her breathing failing her as his warm hands enclosed the tops of her shoulders.

Then, in one swift motion, she ducked from underneath his arms, successfully freeing herself from his grasp, the cones spilling out from their tight grip in her hands. They scattered on the dark green grass, the result of her efforts now completely wasted.

With an annoyed growl, she stooped down and started to retrieve them, her hands accidentally bumping into someone else's.

Jack's hands.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice raw with surprise.

He didn't dignify her question with an acceptable answer, merely muttering, "I'm sorry," scrambling on his hands and knees to pick up the remainder of the cones.

She rocked back on her heels, surprised. "For what?"

"You know what I'm sorry for?" Jack finally asked, his tone surprisingly harsh, his anger finally arriving at its peak. He stood up in tandem with her, shoving the neat stack of cones into her hands forcefully. "I don't even _know._ Because you won't freaking tell me, and as far as I'm concerned, I've done nothing wrong."

With that last statement, the steamed soccer player turned around in disgust and stormed off towards the benches, where all the players were watching with wide eyes; they'd evidently been witnessing the confrontation between the blonde and the brunet the entire time.

Kim could only stare at his retreating figure in confusion.

* * *

><p>All the bright orange cones, the miscellaneous soccer balls and the multicolored soccer jerseys, had been cleared from the soccer field. The official soccer team tryouts, as of now, were over, and the captain of the team sat alone on the sidelines on the raised metallic benches, a clipboard in her hand as she debated the pros and cons of each player that had tried out today.<p>

Scrimmage had gone relatively well…if you chose to forget the fact that it basically became a war between Kim and Jack, various players trying to get in between them as they fought over every last goal. Jack seemed to be taking on a sharper edge now, much like hers, his manner towards her during the scrimmage sarcastic and biting.

She must have really angered him.

And, contrary to what other people might think, she did feel a bit sorry.

With a sigh, she swept the clipboard off of the bench angrily and threw the writing utensil she'd been scribbling furiously with several feet away from her current position. The green pen bounced across the grass before coming to a halt.

Her next problem: she didn't know which people to pick.

Jerry was obvious for a goalie—it wasn't just that he was the sole person to try out for that position and that position alone, but he was actually skilled at it. Yes, he'd been a little clumsy the first two semesters after they'd arrived together at the school, but he was now graceful while surrounded by his, as he referred to it, 'happy place'—or, rather, the inside of the goal. Eddie and Milton—Milton seemed to be Kim and Rudy's right-hand man. He was the one that picked up on things Kim had forgotten, helped her organize team activities, and acted like the unofficial manager. Eddie was a solid right defender. Kim, Eddie, Jerry, and Milton had all agreed, when they'd met in ninth grade on their first day, to go through soccer tryouts together and to make the team as their own, personal team.

They'd achieved that goal, and happily too.

Julie had been new a couple seasons back but she'd proved herself to be a great midfielder. Her passes, while not very strong, were very accurate for the most part. And Kat, Paul, Evan, Grace, Pete, Kyle, Kelsey—all of them were just as good, if not better, than they were last season. Kat could have her inconsistent days when she was in a bad mood, but all in all she was an excellent defender.

(Privately, she thought there was something going on with Kat and Kyle—they'd been acting weird around each other lately—but she didn't want to think about that right now.)

She had to focus. A lot was riding on her this season.

Out of all the new potential players, Kim felt there was only room for one more out of the three that actually showed some skill. There was Rebecca, who was okay at defender but didn't seem dedicated enough to show up for practice every single day, and Mark, who showed skill at pretty much every position—but wasn't talented at a particular one.

And then, of course, there was Anderson.

It was always about Jack, wasn't it?

If this had been Jerry or Milton choosing players, they would have gone with the team last year and then picked Jack. Jack was talented, he was excellent at playing forward and dribbling, he was physically fit, he was—

He was too damn perfect.

Kim honestly didn't believe that there was a single thing that this new student couldn't do so far, and at the tryouts, everyone had been whispering about him, marveling at his _talent_ and his proficiency for complicated soccer maneuvers. She'd heard the murmurs as she returned to the bench after her and Jack's little fight.

It sickened her.

Well, okay, if he'd had to work a little harder at trying out and impressing everyone and if he hadn't pushed her down the first day, maybe she would have accepted him into the team already—but the fact was that he _had _done those two things, and no matter how much Kim wanted to win, she was now prejudiced against him, even if she knew she was being unfair. Jack really—

"BOO!"

Kim jumped about ten thousand feet into the air and clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle a shriek. She whipped around in anger, only to be met with Jerry's smiling face.

"Jerry, you scared the hell out of me!" she cried, giving him a little push and causing him to topple over. However, she couldn't stop a smile from forming—no matter how frightened she'd been, it was a nice way to relieve the tension.

The goalie laughed breezily as he plopped down next to her. "Hey, it takes a lot for someone like me to sneak up on Kim Crawford. You must be really thinky today, right?"

"_Thinky_?" Kim's eyebrows hiked up her forehead.

"Don't judge," Jerry defended. "It's a perfectly good word, yo!"

Kim merely shook her head, letting loose a laugh. "Thinky. Right. I'll keep that word in mind."

"Did you get into a fight with Jack at the tryouts?" Jerry blurted out impulsively.

She stiffened. "Um…well, we were fighting perpetually during the scrimmage, yes, if that's what you mean."

"No," Jerry rolled his eyes. "When you were picking up cones and he was helping…what were you two fighting about?"

"He told you about that?" Kim spluttered. "What did he say?"

Jerry shrugged carelessly. "Nothing, he just told me that you guys had gotten into a little disagreement."

Her eyebrows shot up yet again. Jack _hadn't_ ranted to the team about what a conniving, mean, and prejudiced captain she was?

That boy had manners.

"Well…" Kim shrugged uncomfortably. "I'd rather not talk about it…"

Jerry looked like he wanted to investigate further, but at a warning glare from Kim, he revised his next words at the last moment. "Are we still going to go through with the Initiation?"

Kim shook her head in exasperation. "Do you know me at _all,_ Jerry? Of course we are! The materials are arriving in another hour or so, and we'll start it tonight! And given the fact that all of you have idolized Anderson as a hero…I'm interested to see how he'll do."

"Oh, him in particular, huh? Compared to the other two potential new players for year's team?" Jerry raised an eyebrow, a smirk starting to spread across his face. "Do you happen to _like_ Jack, Kim? As maybe more than a friend?"

"No," she snorted, rolling her dark eyes. "I don't even have platonic feelings for him, let alone romantic ones."

Jerry knew for a fact that Kim was a horrible liar—and her reply seemed genuine. Harsh, yes, and maybe a little mean, but most definitely true. However, there was a certain way she said the word that had Jerry thinking that there was more to the blonde's opinion of the newbie than she was revealing.

After considering it for a moment, Jerry made Kim look into his eyes. "Why _don't_ you like Jack, Kim? Answer me honestly. Is it still because he ran you over on his first day?"

"No!" she replied, seemingly offended. "Well, okay, maybe a little, but that's not the point."

"Then _why_?"

Kim bit her lip before the words came spilling out of her mouth. "I just feel like it isn't fair! The reason I don't like him is that you all have accepted him so easily, like he's already on the team. He's been here all of three days or so and you're all obsessed with him already."

Jerry thought over the words. "What's wrong with that?"

"'_What's wrong with that?'"_ Kim repeated incredulously. "Don't you remember our freshman year? Having to work so, _so_ hard just to get _on_ the team? We practiced together, outside of school, for so many weeks—almost a full two semesters—before we made it on. And all of a sudden, Anderson swoops in and it's like, _oh, he should be on the team!_ Every single freaking thing has been given to him from his very first day!"

Jerry's eyes widened as the fierce blonde continued in her rage.

"He didn't have to work hard, he didn't have to endure hours of training just to be considered by the captain for a spot on the team! He didn't—"

Jerry clapped a hand over her mouth, drawing it away quickly when she made a move to bite him in order to release the hold on her chin. "Look me in the eyes, Kim, and tell me that he isn't talented."

That comment elicited a sigh from the blonde.

"Kim…?"

Her angry manner seemed to melt just a bit. "He's talented, I will give you that—and we need another strong forward on the team, but…I just don't like him, okay? Something about him sets me off."

Jerry shook his head sadly. "You do realize that he could be the key for us to win against Seaford Prep this year? You can't shelve your feelings for _one second_ to see how incredibly nice he is, how smart he is, how _talented_ he is?"

"For someone who uses the word _thinky_," Kim smirked teasingly, "You're being very insightful about this."

Jerry popped his collar. "Yo, Kim. Jerry Martinez has his moments."

"And I take my previous words back."

The quiet was broken by Jerry's next accusation: "You were really mean to him at tryouts, you know?"

"I—"

"Every single time we were at a station together," Jerry continued on in his little spiel, "I saw you acting like you hated him the whole time. You would make notes in your clipboard like your were writing horrible things about him and he was asking me why you hated him so much, and I couldn't answer, Kim, because _I didn't know. _And I still don't know."

"Okay!" Kim admitted. "I was mean to him at tryouts. But it was, um, a tactic?"

Jerry's dark eyebrows drew together. "What's that word mean?"

"I was testing to see how he would do under pressure," Kim explained. "You know, how he would react to me acting like I hated him?"

Jerry crossed his arms. "It really was mean, Kim. You should have seen him. Jack's a nice guy, and you doing that to him wasn't very nice. He was trying to hide it but I could tell that he was angry at himself, like he'd actually done something to make you wrong and he was trying to make it right but didn't know how!"

Jesus.

Jack Anderson wasn't that bad of a person, huh?

There was a long moment of silence, before Kim finally voiced the one thing she'd been dying to say to a close friend from the moment she'd laid eyes on Jack Anderson.

"He's too…" she struggled to find the courage to force out the words for a moment, a bit scared of Jerry's reaction. "Perfect. He's too perfect."

Jerry didn't miss a beat this time. "Well, maybe that's what we need on this team, yo. _Perfection._"

With that note, he stormed off, hefting his blazer onto his shoulder by his fingertips and throwing a dramatic gaze back at Kim before descending the hill and crossing the dark green running track.

"Jerry," Kim called after him, a faint smile tracing the corners of her lips as she twisted around on the bench, watching his retreating figure and shaking her head in pure amusement, astounded at his ability to raise her mood just by talking to her. "You're heading the wrong way to your dorm…"

Jerry whipped around, several feet away from her now. "Way to ruin a dramatic exit, _Kim_!"

"Always," she promised with a cheeky grin, and fell into silence, deep in thought.

_Initiation time._

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><p><strong>AN: So at the end of this chapter we get a bit of Jerry/Kim friendship and they talk about the Initiation, something that will be revealed next chapter.**

**If anyone wants a visual picture of what the Bobby Wasabi Private School's uniforms look like (every student is required to wear them in this story while in school), I got the inspiration from the uniforms that the characters in "House of Anubis", a TV show, wear—just replace everything red with a dark green color. I love the uniforms, they're really cool and I sometimes wish I was required to wear a uniform.**

**1D NOTE: Last night I was screaming because #niallHORANappreciationday was trending on Twitter. It got to number one…so I'll just take this opportunity to say that One Direction honestly make my day and I love Niall Horan :D I wore loads of green just for him today. :) LOVE YOU IRISH POTATO!**

**Keep reviewing, my lovelies! They honestly make my day!**

**—A**


	4. Just Keep Running

**A/N: Thanks for the positive response, everyone! If you could, please take a few more seconds and write a review. If you like this story, share it with other Kickin' It/Kick fans! Thanks!**

**I would have published this chapter yesterday but I was watching the midnight premiere of ****The Hunger Games!**** The movie was amazing—it's the best book-to-film adaptation I've ever seen. The midnight premiere was awesome, it was my first time going to a midnight showing and I'm glad it was for The Hunger Games.**

**Oh, and though I've never seen Finding Nemo, the title of the chapter ****is**** a reference to the movie. **

**This chapter is rated T for some language—and at the beginning, you can thank Kat and Jack for that…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p><em>"If you're not sure what to do with the ball, just pop it in the net and we'll discuss your options afterwards."<em>

_…_

—_Bill Shankly_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER FOUR: Just Keep Running<strong>

Of all the ways to be woken up in the middle of the night, Jack definitely wouldn't have chosen this option—not if he'd had any other choice.

That is, unless people were under the impression that he _enjoyed_ being shaken awake at three o'clock in the morning, a gag shoved into his mouth and a blindfold slipped over his eyes, his mind still groggy from a deep sleep and his movements stiff from rest.

The first thing that popped into his mind was _fear._

His attempt at screaming in fury and shock failed miserably, as the cloth shoved into his mouth muffled the words into nothing but incoherent sounds. The lack of vision was unnerving, and he could feel a few hands pulling at his shirt and his shoulders, trying to get him to sit up. Frantic whispers blurred into a quiet but cacophonic symphony in his ears, meaningless phrases swirling around him in a tornado.

_What the hell is happening?_

He thought he detected a female voice among the two or three boys that were tugging him into a sitting position, but the fear blocked out all recognition he could have deduced from the hushed whispering.

_What is a girl doing in the boys' dorm?_

"You idiots!" he heard the female snap. "You're doing it wrong, you're scaring him half to death—Jack? Are you awake?"

Jack's fear increased, and he kicked wildly, hoping to hit something, silently praying that his assailants would receive some pain and realize that he wasn't going to go down without a fight. He thrashed back and forth in a desperate attempt to free himself from this situation, wanting nothing more than to figure out what the hell was going on.

Wait, what _was_ happening here?

Ice-cold hands pinned his own together, not allowing him the opportunity to rip off the blindfold. He tried to speak through his gag, but not a single distinguishable word managed to push through.

Well, that might have been for the best, because the words Jack was dying to scream weren't exactly…_appropriate_.

If these people weren't going to tell him any information, he might as well fight. Kicking out again, his right foot managed to connect with something soft, probably a person's body. Allowing himself a moment's satisfaction, he heard the person stumble back, crashing into his dresser and muttering several explicit words in rapid succession.

Jack calmed down enough to process the last sentence or so.

"Oh, _shit!_ What the bloody hell, Jack?" an angry British accent demanded furiously. From the sound of it, the speaker was female, but the blood rushing through Jack's ears kind of blurred and scrambled the information into meaningless code.

Another voice snorted. "What happened to, _man up, wimps?_" The end of the question grew higher in pitch until the tone had taken on a mocking edge.

"Let's see you turn into a female, get kicked straight in the chest and not allow yourself a small cry of pain!" the female voice bit back.

"Guys, stop fighting," a calm voice reprimanded gently. "C'mon—get the ropes, quickly, before he starts to fight even harder and kicks you somewhere a little worse than the chest—"

Within seconds, his hands had been securely tied behind his back and his arms bound to his body, leaving his legs free to move around. He felt three pairs of hands spin him around, pull him to his feet, then sit him right back down on his bed. Someone managed to jam socks and shoes onto his feet before he was being forced out of the room, the kidnappers marching him down the hall of his dorm.

The air-conditioned corridor soon gave way to the cool blast of the night air as the doors swished open, the cold breeze settling around Jack and his three kidnappers. They didn't carry him on their shoulders or by the ropes, but merely pushed him in the right direction, hands on him at all times to ensure that he didn't run away.

He couldn't have escaped, even if he'd wanted to. His hands were bound to his sides and the blindfold blocked out anything he could have seen.

Jack twitched as his sneakers thudded across what seemed to be concrete, and he wriggled against his bonds, attempting to untie the ropes on his wrists by bending them back painfully in order to reach the restraining material. Pain shot through his wrists in white-hot flashes, and he winced, the gag thankfully cutting off his cries of pain.

Warm hands pulled his fingers from the rope. "Stop. Don't resist us, okay? You're just going to make it worse."

Jack had always had a strong disability to do what other people told him, and wriggled even harder, his mind working at a furious pace to try to calculate where he was right now. The lack of vision was seriously starting to annoy him.

"I'll take out the gag if you promise not to yell," another voice, the cool and collected one, announced cajolingly, shushing at the others to be quiet as they continued. "But you have to be quiet, Jack, we can't wake up the other students."

He nodded vigorously—_anything to get the cloth out of his mouth—_and the cottony material was ripped away without further hesitation.

"What the hell?" Jack demanded, the absence of the gag a huge relief. He spat a tiny bit of cotton from his lips and continued, "Who the hell are you and what do you want? Why can't I see, and where are you taking me?"

No answer. They continued to half-walk, half-shove him forward, their grips on his arms viselike. He was practically shaking with fury now, his anger getting the best of him yet again. "Tell me or I'll start screaming again," Jack threatened—anything to get an answer out of them.

Nothing. They simply forced him on.

"_Tell me!_" Jack screamed, projecting his voice as loud as he dared.

Without another word, the gag was stuffed back into his mouth, the female voice cursing, "Shit. Kim is going to give us hell for that."

_Kim?_

His body physically relaxed the tiniest bit. At least he knew he was going to be facing Kim and not some psycho killer that wanted to chop his head off…

But the way things had been going between Kim and Jack lately, Jack might have chosen the psycho killer if given the choice. While the murderer might provide a quick death, there was no guarantee that the psycho _blonde_ would…

The words _vicious killer lamb_ popped into Jack's mind, and he shook his head vigorously in confusion.

"We're almost there," a male voice muttered into his ear. "Just stay calm, okay? We're not going to hurt you—watch out, we're climbing up a hill—"

Thankfully, the gag was removed from his mouth for the second time as the ground below him curved up steeply, as expected.

"Are we on the soccer field?" Jack deduced, his voice layered thick with confusion as he shuffled his feet, the familiar sounds of grass under his shoes confirming his suspicions. "Why?"

He received no answer from the comforting voice. Instead, he was marched another ten feet or so before they let go of him, pushing him forward slightly into two other people—Jack still couldn't see their faces, but they seemed to be in this just as much as he was.

"Do you know what's going on?" he hissed to them.

His companions seemed to be a boy and a girl. The girl's voice was slightly familiar, and it was shaking with fear as she whispered, "No."

Strong hands untied the bonds around his wrists and arms, and Jack rubbed the abrasions now cut into his skin, slight resent creeping into his movements. Did they really have to tie the ropes so tightly?

Jack strained his ears and listened as hard as he could, attempting to map out the field from the sounds he could hear. There seemed to be several people shuffling about, calling out meaningless phrases to each other and throwing things back and forth. From the sounds of it, the objects flying to and fro were…soccer balls?

"Welcome," a cold voice greeted. "To the Initiation."

All of the racket died down, and the field was instantly deathly silent. Jack's nerves returned, his body tensing up in anticipation and in slight fury.

Because he recognized the voice.

It belonged to Kim.

"The Initiation," Kim continued, "Is a test especially designed to test the will and power of potential players that we are considering for our soccer team this semester, the Wasabi Warriors."

Jack's heart leapt at the last statement—he was being considered for a spot on the team? Kim hadn't ruled him out completely?

"You've have been pulled out of your beds at this hour of the night to perform your test. The blindfolds and the ropes were designed to test your courage," Kim explained. "If you've been injured in any way, we'll seek medical attention after you've completed the Initiation."

Someone next to him coughed and shuffled.

"The Initiation is comprised of two parts," Kim announced, her voice still neutral. "The first is making it past the side of the field while dribbling a ball, through a sort of obstacle course. You will each be assigned a partner. Your partner can help you up if you fall, they can guide you in the right general direction, and they can bring you back the ball if you lose it, but in no way can they dribble the ball for you. They cannot tell you what's coming up but once you've encountered something, they can tell you what the object is. At no point can you take off your blindfold. At the end of the obstacle course, you have to successfully shoot the ball into the goal. The second part will be explained once you get to it. Any questions?"

"Who will our partners be?" Jack called out, a sudden burst of confidence resulting in the question spilling from his lips.

"You'll find out soon enough," Kim supplied coldly. "The three people I've chosen—get with your players!"

The sounds of people shuffling across the field began again, the rustling of players jogging across the grass filling Jack's ears as he spun this way and that, unable to see his guide.

"Anderson!" Kim's voice barked over the general noise. "You're going first. After Anderson will be Rebecca, and then Mark. Got it?"

"I'm going first?"

There was no response from the captain.

Eddie's voice filtered into Jack's hearing. "Hey, why can't I be Jack's partner?" Jack heard Eddie whine. "I know him the best so far, after Jerry! And Milton!"

"Yeah, well," Kim's voice retorted swiftly, "You're a complete klutz when you're not playing defense, and we want to see how much he can do without someone else pulling him down. The only reason Jerry and Milton aren't guiding him is—"

Kim's reprimanding tone was cut off by another voice, this one much closer to him.

"_Jack,_" a familiar voice whispered right next to his ear, startling the heck out of the aforementioned teen. Jack jumped about three feet into the air and thought he detected the sound of Kim snickering at him as the voice continued. "Jack, it's me."

He could feel the person behind him now, patting his back reassuringly, a few inches shorter than him in height, warm to the touch.

"Kat?"

"Yes," Jack felt her shift behind him and maneuver around him to stand next to him. "I'm your partner for the Initiation. Relax, yeah? As long as you don't get too keyed up you should be perfectly fine. You've got the skills, just don't get your knickers in a twist."

Jack emitted a short, nervous laugh. "Um…right. I won't get my _boxers_ in a twist." He paused. "Wait, was it you that I kicked in the chest earlier? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kat snorted. "It hurt at first—but that's not the point. Come over here."

She started tugging on his arm, pulling him a few feet to the left and placing a ball at his feet; Jack nudged the soccer ball to see where it was, rolling it underneath his shoe. "We're starting here," she explained. "Kim will tell you when—"

"We're starting now!" Kim's voice cut through the air, silencing Kat. "Anderson…_go!_"

Jack dribbled forward cautiously, expecting to hit something like a wall at any moment.

Nothing got in his way. He continued to nudge the ball forward tentatively, switching feet every few steps, his running tense and prepared for the worst.

"Am I going in the right direction?" he wondered out loud to Kat thirty seconds later, who was keeping a steady pace beside him; he could hear the sound of her shoes jogging lightly across the grass. "Because—"

The ball suddenly disappeared from underneath his feet, and the next thing he knew, he'd fallen flat on his face, sprawling onto the cold grass, the breath knocked out of his lungs. His blindfold shifted slightly, but managed to keep its position over his eyes.

_Damn._

"You hit a rock, Jack," Kat whispered urgently to him, her voice several inches above his head. "Here's your soccer ball—"

The spherical object was passed into his hands. He rolled it in front of him, positioning it as accurately as he could.

"And you have to keep going," Kat encouraged, pulling him to his feet. He staggered backwards before slowly dribbling around the rock, giving it a wide berth just in case Kim had managed to find a mutant-sized rock for the Initiation, and continued on.

Over the next two minutes or so, Jack managed to knock over a cone, trip over another rock, and, according to Kat, kick a…flower?

"Jerry must have put it there," Kat sighed in exasperation, and Jack could almost visualize the raven-haired player next to him rolling her eyes. "He found a patch of flowers by the greenhouses and couldn't resist stealing them."

Jack swallowed, his dribbling slowing down considerably as a thought occurred to him.

"Don't stop!" Kat reprimanded him fiercely. "You're almost there, we're close to the goal!"

Jack bit his lip. "Um, Kat…are there any _moving_ things out there?"

"I'm not allowed to say," she replied regretfully.

That should have been his warning, because the next thing he ran into was a _person._

As in, a legitimate, human-being-sized person.

The unknown figure toppled over along with Jack, as Jack had dribbled headlong into the person. They tumbled onto the field, the ball rolling away to some unknown location as he struggled to stumble to his feet without the use of his sight.

"Kim put _people_ on the fields for me to crash into?" Jack cried in disbelief. "What the heck?"

"Hey, it wasn't a picnic for me, either," a familiar voice pointed out. "All I get to do is stand out here and act like a human obstacle. Kim ran out of things to put in your way."

Kyle.

Kat snickered. "You crashed into Kyle, Jack…and don't worry, he doesn't mind. He's apparently much tougher than that."

"Oh, shut up," Jack heard Kyle whisper to Kat, who giggled.

_Kat giggles?_ Jack wondered incredulously. _Who would have thought?_

"Well, you're always the one claiming that you're tough!" Kat insisted, traces of laugher still evident in her voice. "So much for that…"

"Well," Kyle started defensively, "let me run _you_ over and see how you—"

Jack threw his hands up frantically. He'd begun to search for the ball while Kat and Kyle were having their little…flirt-fest, or whatever it was, but he was convinced that time was running out and his impact with Kyle had knocked the ball out of his crawling range. "Look, I'm sorry to break up your obvious flirting—"

He received a stinging punch to the shoulder, courtesy of Kat.

"But," Jack winced, rubbing his shoulder, "I really need the ball and you're supposed to be helping me, Kat! Can you please get it? In case you haven't noticed, I'm blind here!"

The sounds of Kat's hurried footsteps across the grass rustled through the darkness, and then she was back with the soccer ball in less than ten seconds, pressing the object into his hands and muttering a hasty apology in his ear.

Jack balanced it below his feet, nodding in what he hoped was the right direction and turning in the direction of Kyle's general voice. "Sorry about that, Kyle—"

"You know," Kat started in impatiently, "for someone who was so ready to continue just a minute ago, you're really chatty now. Just keep going, you're so close!"

After a few more seconds of dribbling, Kat grabbed onto Jack's wrist, pulling him to a stop. "The goal is close to you," Kat hissed to him. "But I'm not allowed to tell you where it is. You'll have to keep shooting until you find it…and don't worry, there's not a monster in the goal. It's just Jerry in there."

Jack spun around for a few seconds, his arms swinging out to see if he could find a goalpost anywhere, but he was met with nothing.

On the other side of the field, he could hear Rebecca's hysterical voice, the words punctuated by sobs, growing closer and closer. The sound of a scream reached Jack's ears as he heard a _thump_, and he assumed that Rebecca had fallen down.

Wait.

He could _hear_ screaming…and talking…

Jack could _hear._

"Jerry!" Jack screamed, hoping that Jerry was allowed to talk.

"Yo!" Jerry responded, somewhere to his left, his voice surprisingly cheerful and bright. "Whattup, Jack?"

_Bingo._

Jack turned carefully to the left before he could lose his memory on the exact location from where he'd heard the voice, checking the soccer ball's position before speeding forward and shooting it in the general direction that Jerry's voice had come from.

_Thump._

Then, "OW!"

"Jerry?" Jack called out gleefully. "Did I make it?"

A choking sound was heard, Jerry's wheezing sounding a bit far away from him. "Yeah—it bounced—off—my stomach—into—goal. That—was—unexpected—"

"Basically," Kat laughed, coming up behind him, causing Jack to jump yet again; he hadn't heard her footsteps. "You passed that little test, and with flying colors, too. Smart move. Now come on," she commanded, tugging him across more grass. "The next part is a little bit…harder…"

After walking around what Jack assumed to be part of the soccer field, Kat had yanked him towards something else.

"Okay," Milton's calm voice spoke up, and Jack listened attentively. "Great job on the obstacle course—now you have to go through the maze."

"A _maze_?" Jack repeated in disbelief.

"Yes," Milton answered pompously. "The walls are sturdy, so don't bother trying to break them down. The walls are tall enough to keep you from tipping over them, but they're still short enough that we can see most of your head to keep track of where you are and what you're doing. Your object is to get through the maze to your other partner, who's on the other side."

Jack's eyes widened beneath the blindfold. He was expected to go through a maze, all by himself? "Kat?" he tried softly. "Are you still here?"

"She's already gone to the other side," Milton told him. "She can call out your name so you know what direction you're going in, but she can't tell you to turn right or anything. Got it?"

"Wait!" Jack protested. "I—"

Milton evidently didn't wish to waste anymore time. "Go!"

Jack received a push on the back that tipped him forwards, the shove presumably from Milton. The ball rolled into motion under his feet, and he stumbled into what he assumed was the maze, splaying out his hands and desperately searching for the walls to catch his balance, clinging to them by his fingertips.

The sound of what sounded like a door slamming shut banged behind him.

_Crap._

First things first—know your surroundings.

Jack tentatively spread his arms out again to see how wide the paths were. They weren't big enough for him to completely stretch his arms out, but they weren't claustrophobically tiny either. The walls seemed to reach up to about his chest.

"Kat?" he yelled loudly, remembering that she was allowed to say his name, to give him _some_ sense of direction.

"Jack!" the familiar voice screamed, sounding very, _very_ far away and to his right. "Jack!"

In his excitement, he dribbled forward quickly…

Before slamming into an actual wall this time.

The walls swayed the tiniest of a degree (Jack put his hands up to feel the resistance), but they didn't seem capable of falling down. He picked himself up, not allowing fear to take over his actions, and continued on at a steady pace, his arms stretched out to guide him, hitting dead ends every thirty seconds.

Two minutes passed by, and Jack was only hitting dead ends.

Another minute, and Jack had tripped over something and banged his head against a wall.

After another five minutes, he leaned against a wall, exhaustion catching up to him. Jack felt hopelessly lost. Was this some kind of torture? Was it even _legal_ to kidnap a sixteen-year-old from his bed in the middle of the night and force him blindly thorough an obstacle course and a dark maze with almost no help at all?

He had the sudden urge to rip off his blindfold, just to see where he was. If he ducked down, surely he could slip it off without anyone noticing, right?

Sinking down to his knees, his hands drifted up to the blindfold before he paused.

_No._ If they somehow found out that he cheated, that would just give Kim one more thing to hate about him—and no matter how much Jack wanted to succeed in this, he was _not _giving Kim yet another reason to dislike him.

Besides, he would have been plagued with guilt at the end. Cheating was one thing he was not going to do. He'd been raised as a child to play fair at all costs.

No way.

"How on earth did you guys set this damn thing up?" Jack yelled, rising to his feet and beating his fists against the sturdy walls, fury creeping into his voice. "These things won't freaking _fall!_"

His wish for the walls to just collapse was, unfortunately, _not _granted, and he stretched a sore hamstring, anger steeling the determination in him.

"_Kat!_" he screamed, adrenaline buzzing through his veins once more as he began to nudge the ball forward cautiously, his pace controlled as his hands rose up before him, tracing the sides of the walls.

He had to get out of this hellhole, no matter what it took.

"_Jack!_"

He needed to head to the left. He'd gone too far to the right.

At the next possible turn, he veered left, his breaths bouncing off the walls, adding to his other senses that had sharpened since entering the maze.

The fear continually made attempts to creep back into him, but each time Jack just growled and pushed his body harder, putting all his efforts in ridding himself of this damn maze and winning his vision back. His familiarity with the maze and how it worked just increased with the more turns he made, and soon he was jogging through it, occasionally backtracking out of dead ends.

Despite the cold air, drops of sweat began to roll down his neck, and he swiped at his forehead, cutting off the beads of perspiration before they could travel farther down his face.

_He would need a shower when he was done with this…_

Five more minutes passed, Jack barreling through the maze with newly discovered strength, his feet weaving the ball back and forth between the paths with ease. He let the soccer instincts in him take over his body, his brain switching into autopilot mode.

_Jog._

_Turn._

_Repeat._

"Kat?" Jack called out tentatively, after some time had passed.

"I can see you!" was the reply.

A grin started to turn up the corners of his face as he sprinted forwards, his speed increasing dramatically. "Really?"

There was barely a hint of a pause as the girl cheered, "Jack! Just right in front of you! You're so close!"

_Yes!_

His mind started to blur, the thoughts of impending victory jumbling up all rationality as he dribbled straight forward, making a beeline toward Kat's ecstatic voice. He could hear her jumping up and down now, and worried for a split second that he was going to crash into a wall in his arrogance.

Nothing stood in his way.

"You're done!" Kat cried gleefully, her voice now mere inches from his ears.

Unable to stop his momentum, Jack stumbled out of the maze and straight into Kat, throwing her off balance. She grabbed his arms and suspended him, holding him above the ground as something in her hand beeped, close to his ears.

"What—the—_hell?"_ Jack complained as soon as he managed to regain footing on the ground. "What kind of a challenge was that?"

The pure _relief_ at finally having passed the Initiation flooded through him like a tidal wave, and a sense of satisfaction happened to be so strong that it sent him swaying on the spot, tipping back and forth as he clutched his head, feeling a major headache coming on.

He was finally done.

Kat seemed to have no intentions of responding to his question, simply calling out to an unknown person in obvious excitement, "_Fifteen minutes, seventeen seconds!_"

"Is that good?" Jack gasped out.

"Well, it's—"

His knees gave out.

Jack tumbled to the ground in sheer exhaustion, thankful beyond belief that the stupid Initiation was now over. Kat, unfortunately, hadn't been able to catch him this time, and the grass pressed into his nostrils uncomfortably. He chose to roll over onto his back, his palms flattened against the turf, breathing in the night air that seemed to smell ten times sweeter than it ever had before.

"Come on," Kat managed to pull Jack to his feet after a few minutes of rest. "You did extremely well, but we have to get you some proper rest and relaxation now. Don't worry, you're done—I don't think you can handle any more trauma for tonight, anyway."

Jack wiggled uncomfortably as Kat starting pulling him somewhere, the destination unknown. "Can you get this damn thing off of me? I hate not being able to see."

Kat let loose a small lungful of air. "You've got to wait a tiny bit more…"

"Kat," Kim voice called. Jack stiffened at the sound of the captain's cold tone. "Check the—"

"Got it."

Jack felt Kat move up behind him and fiddle with something on his head, her fingers poking and pulling at the blindfold before announcing, "He's good! Nothing was broken!"

"Broken?" Jack asked dizzily, the shock now finding its way into his system. He teetered back and forth and nearly toppled over for the fiftieth time, but Kat managed to catch him. "What do you mean, broken? I didn't break my head."

A giggle escaped him, turning into a full laugh. He snickered hazily for a few minutes, not even noticing that he probably looked very, _very_ stupid.

Kat's sarcastic tone managed to clear away some of the fog that had been accumulating inside his head. "Of course you didn't break anything, you idiot, you only fell down a few times. I was checking for something else, don't worry. You seem a bit tipsy—and I'm guessing you didn't drink alcohol tonight…the shock's catching up with you…"

"Can you take the blindfold off _now_?"

Her arm brushed the side of his head as she reached up, her fingers curling over the blindfold. There was a swift ripping sound, and the blindfold disappeared from his head, returning his vision to him in the process. Jack's head swept back and forth, wondering where he was—he'd never had a sense of direction in the first place, as he'd been blindfolded from the moment he'd woken up in his room.

He was on the side of the field, near one of the goals, standing next to the metallic benches used for spectators during the games. Half of the field—the obstacle course—was lit up, and Jack noticed Kyle and a few other players standing in as obstacles while there were some other random objects scattered among the blades of grass.

The other half of the field was the maze Jack had just popped out of. The walls looked to be a cold, steely gray, set up by supports that twisted up the edges. It didn't look like anything he had expected, but then again, he'd been blind.

Kat was staring challengingly up at him, one dark eyebrow raised, as though she were expecting a now demented, twisted, and insane version of him.

Jack rubbed his eyes, muttering, "Jesus. That was a hell of a thing."

A smile stretched across her face, and she rolled down the sleeves of her oversized _Wasabi Warriors Soccer _sweatshirt, wrapping it tightly around herself as she continued to observe him. "Not so bad, was it?"

Jack reply was cut off by a brisk voice: "Any major injuries?"

He twisted around and was met with the captain of the team herself, tapping a pen against a clipboard and observing him with a critical eye. She marched up to him and wrote something on her clipboard.

"No," he answered through gritted teeth. "Nice of you to put me through that, _captain._"

Kim's face softened just the tiniest degree, and she made a beeline for the benches, Kat pushing him gently after her. The blonde grabbed a blanket from the small supply that had been prepared and handed it to him stiffly, along with a water bottle.

"For the record," Kim remarked as she plopped down next to him on the bench, staring at Jack as he downed the water thirstily, "I never came up with it. It's been a Wasabi Warriors tradition. I just organized it this year."

Jack ceased in his drinking. "Were the human obstacles really necessary? I think I bruised Kyle really badly."

Kim managed a small laugh, causing Jack's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. Her voice seemed almost civil as she replied, "I ran out of other objects."

Was this the same Kim that he'd gotten into a fight with just earlier today, on the same field? They were acting as though they were friends, or at the very least, acquaintances. Her icy manner was slowly melting, little by little, like someone had struck a small flame next to an ice sculpture.

Jack felt encouraged, and a tiny smile managed to make its way across his face before he pressed his lips to the water bottle again.

Kim's tone was now businesslike as she picked up the clipboard and examined Jack closely. "Anything you want to comment on? Complaints, insults, things you'd like to throw at us?"

Jack quirked an eyebrow slowly. "Um…no?"

Kim marked something in her notes. "Right, anything else?"

Jack bit his lower lip before the words came spilling out of their own accord.

"I…I wanted to rip off the blindfold," he confessed, fingering the cloth next to him on the bench in slight shame, his cheeks starting to burn.

The blonde watched with stoic dark eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"But…I couldn't bring myself to do it," Jack took in a shuddering breath. "I felt like somehow, you guys would _know_ what I did. And," he added as a hurried afterthought, "I don't like to cheat."

Kim's eyebrows hiked up her forehead and she scribbled something on her clipboard. "Yeah, we would have known. There was a seal on all the blindfolds—it breaks or cracks at any small movement you make to take or even slip it off. The first thing we did when you finished the maze was to check your blindfold."

"So that's what Kat was checking for," Jack realized. "When she was checking something on my head."

"Yeah, she—"

Jerry popped up suddenly behind Kim. "Well, everyone's done with part one, which means I'm free!" the dark-haired teen cheered. "Awesome job, Jack! Total swag! That was a team record, you know! For the maze!"

"It was?" Jack looked to Kim to verify the claims.

The captain's face shut down again, her slowly softening manner solidifying once more, and she jerked her head nonchalantly. "I suppose."

Jerry nodded, crossing his arms, looking very cheerful despite the late hour. "Dude, when I went through my Initiation, it was scary, yo. But I got through. I kept calm, did the right things, and—"

Kim snorted. "Jerry, you broke down and started crying halfway through the maze. It took you nearly an hour to complete it. We had to go in and check on you, and we found you rocking back and forth in a dark corner."

The goalie pouted. "Okay, maybe I did."

There was an awkward silence before Kat peeled away from the group, her journey across half of the field bringing her to Kyle's familiar figure. Jack studied the number on the back of her soccer sweatshirt as she struck up a conversation with him easily.

Jack cleared his throat. "Hey, um, Kim—"

"You can go now, Jack," Kim announced abruptly, her tone obviously implying expected dismissal. Her dark brown eyes were wide with something that resembled the slightest hint of panic. "I have to stay and watch the next two and also clean up the field afterwards. I'll post tryout results later. Go to bed, don't disturb anyone—we can't have Rudy breathing down our necks like last year. No tricks, got it?"

Jack's hope started to crumble again. The blonde had frozen once more, her manner towards him as icy as it had been the first day now. It seemed that the littlest event or comment could instantly reverse what melting he'd been able to achieve.

"I…"

Jerry took Jack's arm and began tugging him, blanket and all, towards the dorm. Jack desperately wanted to make amends, figure out what he'd done wrong to aggravate the captain again, sleepiness and exhaustion swirling the thoughts in his brain into a confusing haze of scrambled thoughts.

He jerked his elbow free from Jerry's grip and jogged jerkily back up to Kim, the blanket sliding off and falling to the grass. "Wait, Kim!"

"What?" She was in the middle of heading to the maze, where Jack could see Rebecca halfway through—he could hear the sounds of her distressed sobbing—and Mark about to enter.

"I—" Jack swallowed convulsively. "I could…help you clean up after Rebecca and Mark are done, if you'd like?" he offered, taking his best shot at getting back on her good side.

A brief flash of surprise crossed her face, and Jack was sure she was tempted to accept his offer, before she shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea," she declined slowly. "I got it. Go to bed."

On that cold note, she left Jack standing in the middle of the field, staring after the captain.

Again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Fine. I finally put some Jack/Kim in here that's on the edge of friendship and that involved civil words, not fighting. Are you Kick shippers happy now? Jesus.**

**I've nothing much to say, really, but to encourage you all to watch _The Hunger Games_. I meant it when I said that it's an excellent movie, and I'm not just saying that because I'm a fan of the books. It's a great interpretation of the book and I'm looking forward to _Catching Fire._**

**I have one more thing to ask: what would all of you think if I started writing Grace/Jerry one-shots? I have a few planned out already and I think they would make a good love-hate/awkward couple based on what I saw in Ricky Weaver. Does anyone else think that? Leave your thoughts in a review.**

**And yes, that does mean...review! **

**—A**


	5. Shock Value

**A/N: Hey, thanks for all the great reviews! Sorry it took so long to update. Please, continue to review and review the chapter. Just a few words can make my day. Thank you to the anon reviewer who kindly pointed out that I was focusing a little too much on my OCs—I was actually rereading my chapters and thinking the same thing. I'm grateful for the constructive criticism.**

**To _maya87:_ After I read your review I looked up the singer Charice and yes, I suppose you could use her as a visual representation for what Kat kind of looks like. However, I imagined Kat with darker hair—but it's pretty accurate. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p>"<em>What a great day for soccer, all we need is some green grass and a ball."<em>

…

—_Bill Shankly_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER FIVE: Shock Value<strong>

"You know, you might want to actually get out of bed if you want to go to school today."

"Great observation, Jerry," Jack groaned, rolling over and finding himself hanging off the side of his bed, sleep still clouding his mind. He didn't exactly register the fact that his face was inches from the hard, cold wooden floor, and once he did, his eyes merely widened the tiniest of a fraction. "I really didn't know that."

Jerry's grin was lighthearted as he spun back around and straightened his tie before bending down and tying his shoes. "You're welcome, man!"

Apparently, Jerry never understood sarcasm.

Jack flipped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling sleepily, rubbing at his brown eyes vigorously in a vain attempt to clear some of the drowsiness away. "How are you so cheerful already?" Jack complained, finding the energy of his roommate quite unnerving. "Usually, you can't even get yourself out of bed."

"Milton brought me a coffee," Jerry giggled—_giggled?—_bouncing over to his dresser and holding up a Styrofoam cup to the sunlight filtering in from the window as if it were a trophy, an accolade. He actually looked quite proud of it. "He thought I would need it, because last night was the Initiation! And I'm usually always tired after the Initiation!"

Gosh, Jerry could have been a peppy cheerleader.

You know, if he wasn't a guy.

Jack twisted his body, the blankets tangling around his torso in a messy cocoon, and stared at it in pure jealousy, wishing he'd at least been brought something—after all, he was the one that had been forced to endure a dark maze last night…

…Before taking another look at Jerry's shaking figure, his body alive with energy, practically bouncing off the walls and a manic grin plastered on his face.

He was suddenly thankful he didn't get any caffeine.

"I'm guessing you aren't usually allowed coffee?" Jack deduced as he slowly rolled out of bed, stretching his legs and attempting to loosen the stiffness in the muscles. His legs extended uncomfortably, pain shooting up and down his calves in tiny pinpricks as he stood up and began to slip on his uniform.

Try as he might, he just couldn't picture sensible Milton and Julie letting Jerry anywhere near caffeine, if he was as hyper as this. Jack knew that if it were up to him, he wouldn't place Jerry within a ten-mile radius of a coffee cup.

Jerry was practically vibrating now, his figure blurring slightly around the edges as Jack threw a sweater over his head. "No, they think it's bad for me, but I don't—"

_Splash!_

Jack whipped around from the mirror, his tie hanging loose and swinging back and forth on his neck like a pendulum as he took in Jerry's sheepish expression and the coffee that had exploded from the white Styrofoam cup. The brown liquid was pooling all over the floor, and Jerry tiptoed cautiously next to the growing puddle, as if it were acid that had spilled and not a hot drink.

"_Jerry!_" Jack reprimanded instantly, his forehead hitting his palm as he took in the spreading mess. "Why the hell did you do that?"

The raven-haired goalie winced. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

"No, no…" Jack held his hands up in what he hoped came off as a reassuring, apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry for snapping, I'm just tired and sore from the Initiation last night, and I'm wondering who's going to make it onto the team…and if I'm going to make it…"

Jerry skittered back nervously. "I…"

"I'll clean it up," Jack said hastily, even though it technically wasn't his mess and he was in no way obliged to do so. "I need time to think, anyway. You go ahead and go on to breakfast."

Jerry snatched his backpack from the messy heap of sheets on his bed and stopped jerkily at the door, aiming a guilty expression at the brunet. "Are you sure, man? You look like you could use some food in you."

Jack rubbed his right temple furiously, staring down at the expanding pool of coffee and inhaling the slightly bitter scent in the air. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm not hungry, anyway. Initiation took a lot out of me. You need food—forget about coffee, you've had enough."

"Okay. Thanks, man," Jerry enthused in gratitude before closing the door hurriedly and leaving Jack to a coffee-scented mess.

"You're welcome," Jack whispered bitterly after the door had slammed shut, the ringing sound vibrating through the entire dorm room.

The entire roll of paper towels was all but gone by the time Jack had finally finished mopping up the hard floor, wetting the last few with cold water to ensure that the ground wasn't sticky when they returned after class. He crumpled the last paper towel in his fist and tossed it in the trash with finality in his gestures, then examined the wooden floor closely. There was no sign that coffee had ever been spilled on the shiny surface, except for the lingering scent of the drink in the air.

Jack crossed the room and cracked open the window, shoving the glass up an inch or so to let some fresh air flow into the room and chase the smell of the coffee away. After allowing himself one last look in the mirror, he scooped up his backpack from his desk and swung it onto his shoulders, preparing to leave the room. He would miss breakfast yet again—but he thought didn't bother him. He was too nervous to eat, anyway. Tryout results would surely be coming soon, as Jack had heard the first game was in a week or so, and he was mentally bracing himself for the result.

The morning air was slightly refreshing as he stepped from the boys' dormitory hall, alone in the peaceful quiet of the morning. Jack was just about to head down the path to the dining hall when a figure caught his attention, striding from the large building opposite him—the girls' dorm.

The figure also happened to be blonde, dark-eyed, slightly petite, and very, _very_ familiar.

Kim.

Her brown eyes were observing something on her phone with great interest, tapping away at the touch screen with rapid little thumping sounds. Dark green earbuds trailed a long line from her ears to her iPhone. She seemed to be completely immersed in…whatever she was doing. She hadn't even noticed Jack yet, something strange, as Jack was now only ten feet from her.

Jack began to inch forward, timing his steps so he would meet her on the main path at exactly the same time. If he couldn't eat, he was at least determined to find out what he could about the tryout results.

He started jogging forward on the path after it appeared that she had sped up unexpectedly, reaching out a hand and just barely catching her shoulder. "Hey, Kim!"

Kim flinched wildly and yanked out her earbuds with a forceful downwards gesture, the wires catching on her slender fingers and swinging back and forth crazily. Her eyes were wide with surprise, which quickly gave way to anger as she spat, "What the _hell, _Anderson?"

_Damn._ He'd scared her…yet again. This had to stop happening, especially if he wanted to get on her good side.

"Sorry—"

Kim glared sharply at him, making no attempt to hold back the accusation in her voice. "You seem to like sneaking up on me."

Without waiting for an answer, whether it be another apology or just a clever remark, she continued down the path, forcing Jack to jog a few more steps to keep in time with her quick pace. "Look, I'm sorry. And that was only one other time! Technically, you scared me too…"

"Mmhmm…" Now she seemed completely uninterested in their conversation, removing her twisted earbuds from her hand and tucking them neatly inside her book bag.

A few more seconds passed in this silence, with Kim flicking careless glances up at the path as she continued to type on her phone, as if Jack wasn't there. Jack kept a steady pace beside her, at a loss for what to say.

Jack breathed out quickly. "So…uh…you're heading to breakfast too?"

She fixed him with a sarcastic stare. "No, Jack, I'm heading off to Antarctica. _Yes,_ I'm headed to breakfast! Where else would I go?"

"And you're also running late," Jack noted. "Why?"

"Thanks," she sighed sardonically. "I really didn't know that I was late. I needed _you_ to _tell_ me that."

Jack chose to ignore her obvious displeasure at seeing him and pressed on, attempting to be mature even if she wasn't. "Why were you late? Are you okay?"

"Your concern flatters me," she deadpanned. "Why do you care?"

Jack shrugged carelessly. "Just wondering if you were okay. We can't have the captain of the soccer team fainting on us, can we?"

She stiffened, stopping in her tracks completely, forcing Jack to pitch forward unsteadily and turn back to face her frozen figure. Kim shot him a glare so full of deep dislike that Jack immediately knew he'd crossed some line or said something wrong. He scoured his mind for the offending phrase, replaying the previous conversation—

"What makes you think you're on the team?" Kim snapped, her eyebrows raised in a cold, slightly condescending manner. "Or do you think you're so good that you automatically get a position?"

Jack bit his lip, mentally hitting himself for forgetting that aspect of Kim's personality—she hated overly confident people. He must have seemed really daring, coming off to her as if he'd assumed that he'd made the soccer team already, as if he were _so good_ that he would automatically secure a position. "I…didn't mean it that way. I just wanted to know what happened, and if you're okay. I know you're tired from last night. I heard you stayed up later than anyone else."

Of course, he hadn't really heard that, but he assumed it.

"I was talking with Rudy about the team this year," Kim supplied coldly. "Went to his office early this morning, forgot my bag in my dorm, and I had to go back and get it. Anything else you'd like to know, stalker?"

While Jack was disappointed that her manner towards him wasn't the same easygoing, sympathetic, slightly friendly one he'd witnessed for about two minutes last night, he was relieved that she could still be civil towards him and not completely rip his head off. Even if she hated him and he…wasn't sure what to feel about her right now, there was no reason they couldn't be at least tolerable to each other, right?

Right.

"What else I'd like to know?" Jack repeated breezily, his tone casual despite just being accused of stalking her. He could see he was losing her attention. "Oh, I was just wondering when your kangaroo hotpants were going to come in the mail. I heard Amazon delayed them, and we're going to need them if we want to go on that Siberian penguin chase in Africa this afternoon…"

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Kim's head snapped up from her phone two seconds later as if she was just now registering his words. She stared at him in obvious confusion, baffled beyond belief. _"_Wait, _what?"_

Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "Just wondering if you were still paying attention. Kangaroo hotpants, Siberian penguin chases, Africa…doesn't it sound fun to you? It sounds pretty awesome to me."

She seemed to mull over her Jack's words for another second before laughed unexpectedly, a small giggle escaping her lips before she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "What? You aren't allowed to laugh?"

Kim removed her hand and waved it airily as if that would wipe away the fact that she had actually laughed at something Jack said. A red blush started to creep up her cheeks as she explained, "Nothing…I'm just tired. I must be a little hysterical right now or something…has to be the lack of sleep…but kangaroo hotpants…?"

Jack felt a small sense of victory wash over him. "I'm glad to see you can smile like a normal human being."

A challenging eyebrow hiked up her forehead. "So you're under the assumption that I can't laugh? That I'm so cold that I can't show emotion? Real charming, Anderson."

Jack jerked his head noncommittally. "Whatever floats your boat, Kimmy. You just don't laugh a lot—and certainly not at me."

"Don't call me that," was her only retort.

"What?" Jack grinned, deciding that laughter was probably the best way to melt her cold indifference towards him and diffuse the tension hanging around the pair like a plague. "Kimmy, Kimmy, Kimmy…"

He stuck his tongue out at her for emphasis.

Surprisingly, she laughed again, before trying in vain to wipe her face blank of any entertained emotions. Her eyes betrayed her shock at his antics, as if she didn't know she _could_ laugh around him. "Shut up, I can't concentrate on what I'm doing. If you're going to walk with me, you might as well be quiet."

So that was Kim's one weakness—laughter.

"What _are_ you doing?" Jack piped up three seconds later, unable to keep his mouth shut and unwilling to heed her request.

She sighed impatiently. "I don't see how that concerns you."

Jack waited patiently.

"I'm putting together the list of people who made the soccer team," Kim explained, her voice now dropping in temperature until it was near the freezing point. "Anything else you'd like to know? It's going to be posted this morning on the soccer bulletin board."

Jack attempted to smile comfortingly at her. "I just thought—"

"Stop," she whispered harshly.

Jack raised his eyebrows at the sudden change in her manner—this girl had more mood swings than anyone he'd ever known. "What?"

"Just stop," Kim shook her head, her eyelids fluttering shut. "Quit acting like we're friends, stop trying to get on my good side—because obviously you think it's just going to get you on the team. Don't even bother, okay? Yes, you can make me laugh. So what? I'm not going to favor you over anyone else, so you can stop now. Quit your acting. It's not going to work. You can stop pretending you like me."

Jack's mouth dropped open in pure astonishment.

So _this_ was why she'd been trying to act indifferent to him these past days? Kim thought that Jack's actions were all part of some carefully crafted plan to earn him a place on the team?

He was at a loss for words. It was probably the farthest thing from the truth. "I…"

"That's what I thought," Kim nodded, not allowing him to finish (but he didn't even know what he would have said if she hadn't cut him off), looking as if her worst suspicions had been confirmed. He must have looked like a thief caught in the act, a real fake, an actor that had just forgotten his perfectly scripted lines.

Jack began to protest. "No—"

"It doesn't surprise me, anyway. I'm used to it by now," she remarked bitterly.

The dining hall door was now just inches from where they stood. Jack reached out to try to grab her sleeve or her shoulder to stop her and sort everything out, but he missed by a couple of inches. "No, Kim, that's not what I was trying to do!"

The door to the dining hall slammed shut right in front of his face, right in front of his stunned expression.

* * *

><p>Jack was nervous.<p>

The fact that he had just admitted it to himself unnerved him even more than he already was. Jack Anderson rarely felt anxiety. He moved through daily life with a cool confidence in his abilities. He never overestimated himself. Unlike many other students, he was calmly aware of what he was good at, and what his weaknesses were. He knew what made him tick, what would help him, what he liked, what he didn't.

And yet here he was, in the middle of Chemistry, his right leg bouncing up and down in an unstoppable motion as he contemplated the scarily empty soccer board he'd ducked out of class to see five minutes ago, muttering some excuse to the teacher about going to the bathroom and avoiding Jerry and Kat's curious glances.

Kim had been delaying the posting of the soccer tryout results all day, and it was setting Jack's nerves on edge. The usual had been pinned up on the board—a soccer-themed border, the tryout sign-up sheet that had been returned to the brown surface, small announcements, and a label that proclaimed the empty space beneath it the '2012 FALL SEASON WASABI WARRIORS ROSTER'.

Jack had been running by the board every single passing period to stare at the empty space, as if his gaze would force the board to spit something out in return.

He had to see it again. Just to check, just to make sure…

Propelling himself out of his seat, he leaped to his feet and rushed towards the front of the classroom, deftly flicking the hall pass into his wrist and continuing on his trip to the door, hoping that his small trip would go unnoticed.

"And where are you going, Mr. Anderson?"

_Dang._

Jack was halfway out the door and stumbled a few steps back, coming face-to-face with the icy, blue gaze of his teacher. She tapped her foot impatiently, projecting intimidation and demanding an answer.

"I…"

All the students in the classroom were eyeing him with interest, his failed escape attempt providing a nice distraction from the boring lecture. He caught Kat's gaze, and she merely rolled her eyes unhelpfully and looked away, as if to say, _Jackie, you're on your own. Make it good._

His mind tried to think up excuses, several popping up in a short second, but the panic swirled and jumbled the words until the first one resembled something like: _I need to jump to the bathroom to grab my lunch so my kangaroo won't burn it._

No, that wouldn't do.

"Jack…?"

The mention of his name prompted Jack to act quickly, and he nearly blurted out something about being on his period before he realized at the last possible second that…well…he wasn't a girl.

That excuse was strictly for girls.

_Wait._

"I have to go to my locker," Jack lied smoothly, tamping down on the panic rising in him and letting his natural instincts take over. "I left my science textbook in there."

The teacher's gaze wasn't completely convinced, but she waved a careless hand at him and returned to her boring lecture, including ionic compounds and balancing out chemical equations. He escaped out into the hall gratefully, leaning against a locker for a fraction of a second before making a beeline for the athletics building.

Jack figured he would have to hit up either Milton or Julie for tutoring later in the week, as he would be missing more than half this lecture and he hadn't registered a single fact in the first place.

The doors of the main building clicking shut behind him resulted in a loud, startling sound. Jack jumped a few feet into the air before he relaxed. He wasn't exactly ditching class, was he?

No, he was simply taking an…unauthorized tour around campus.

Jack welcomed the cool air of the interior of the athletics building as he crossed the threshold a minute later, escaping the bright sunshine and closing the door softly behind him. There were no noises except for the muted humming of the air conditioning, and it seemed that no one was inside.

Until, of course, he saw the feminine figure by the soccer bulletin.

He tensed immediately, preparing for it to be a teacher that would send him straight back to class with a punishment or, worse, Kim.

It wasn't any of the above.

Instead, he was greeted by Rebecca, a girl that had tried out for the soccer team. Jack faintly remembered her as the panicked one at the Initiation last night that had burst into hysterical sobs and broken down completely. She was staring at the bulletin intensely, and as soon as she heard Jack's footsteps, she turned to look at him with a wry smile. "You're coming to see the results, too? I'm sorry to disappoint."

After another glance, he realized that the results _still_ had not been posted. A small bubble of disappointment rose within him. "Yeah, I've been checking every period."

Another few seconds of companionable silence passed before Rebecca offered, "I'm not going to make it. If that's any consolation."

Jack's face fell at her negativity. "Why would you say that?"

Rebecca flipped some of her dark red hair back. "In all honesty, I'm not dedicated enough. Not like you. If you want my honest opinion…I think you're going to be the one out of us three to make it. And even if you don't rule out Mark completely, I still say it's you."

Jack raised a dark eyebrow, intrigued that she had so much faith in him. "How come?"

Rebecca shrugged, a knowing smirk pasted on her sharp, angular facial features. "…Intuition, Jackie. Intuition."

She patted him on the shoulder and left him, strolling down the hall and out the doors without bothering to say goodbye or explain her insight to this particular situation. Jack stared after the redhead, confused, before turning back to the empty space on the board.

It was, surprise surprise, _still_ empty. Nothing had changed in the past, oh, two seconds since he'd last examined at it.

Jack wasn't sure how Rebecca could be so confident that Jack was going to be the one out of the three to make it onto the team this year. As far as he knew, Kim hated him and was convinced he was a conniving, player-ish type guy who was only being nice to her in order to get a spot on the soccer team.

All of it was wrong, of course, but it didn't change the fact that the odds of making the team were not in his favor.

Not at all.

He stared at the board for another seconds, resisting the urge to punch it, before simply walking away.

* * *

><p><em>Don't get caught up in his charm.<em>

Whether it was subconscious or conscious, this was the tiny mantra Kim had been chanting to herself ever since she'd met Jack Anderson. She hadn't really realized she was repeating it to herself until last night, during the Initiation, when she'd sat with him on the benches and realized who he really was. However perfect he might be, Jack Anderson was a guy of incredible strength and character—he possessed a surprising amount of maturity for a person of his age.

Especially compared to someone like Jerry.

She'd raised her eyebrows when he'd confessed that he'd been tempted to rip off the blindfold but hadn't. Kim remembered her own Initiation, where the prospect of stealthily slipping off her own blindfold and gaining her sight back had nearly broken down her willpower not to perform that very action. She'd been a tired, scared, and exhausted fourteen-year-old, pushed into a dark maze in the middle of the night with no sight.

And yet, in the end, she'd managed to steal the spot of the best time on the team. No one else, in all her years at Bobby Wasabi Private School, had ever gotten a lower time than her. She'd been the one to hold the record, the title.

Well, until Jack had come along.

Her strategy since the tryouts had been to act indifferent towards him, which she was already starting to do. Don't be completely cold—no sense in gaining an enemy, though she was convinced she'd already done that—but don't be friendly. Act as if he's a co-worker.

But she'd slipped up.

Twice.

The first time had been the Initiation, where she'd found herself laughing and smiling at his jokes, his charm, his ability to make her laugh easily. She'd realized what she'd done, and tried to cover it up by morphing into a robotic, controlling, stick-up-her-butt soccer captain again. It had seemed to discourage him for that night…

Until this morning.

She knew his type—the guy that would smile at her, tease her, talk to her like they were best friends, maybe even flirt, until he got what he wanted out of her. In this case, it was a spot on the soccer team, which Kim wasn't exactly willing to give to him right now. Then he would dump her like a used cup of coffee that had served its purpose, and proceed to never talk to her again.

Kimberly Crawford was all too familiar with that kind of person.

Ever since that…_incident_ a year ago, she'd resolved to put emotional barriers around herself, only allowing them to come down when she was near her friends. While the walls cut off so many opportunities, they also protected her from getting hurt again by another person, whether it be a love interest or an enemy.

Jack Anderson was the first to break down those walls since she'd constructed it.

And she hated him for that.

She despised how easily he could make her laugh, no matter how hard she tried not to. How his random comments, designed to elicit a lighthearted giggle from her, were perfectly timed, and how his plans actually _worked._

No. Kim wasn't going to let Jack hurt her or distract her from her main goal this season—beating Seaford Preparatory.

She _couldn't._

The sun was cutting harsh lines across her vision, and she raised a hand to her forehead, attempting to block the bright light as she searched for the next on her list—Jerry. School had ended about five minutes ago and now she was on a mission—and that was to contact every person who had made the soccer team and tell them that they had earned themselves a spot this season. She'd caught Eddie, Milton, Julie, and Kat at their lockers. The rest of the members she would have to find, navigating through the river of students pouring out of the main building.

Kim caught sight of a familiar figure crossing the soccer field—a tall, raven-haired figure, with a dancer's lilt in his cheerful walk.

Jerry.

Her half-hearted smile faltered instantly as she took careful notice of the teenager strolling across the grass with him. This boy was slightly shorter than Jerry but still had a few inches on Kim, with slightly shaggy brown locks and a blazer slung over his shoulder.

Jack.

_To go or not to go?_

Biting her lip, she cursed herself for being so afraid and started across the field after the retreating pair, shrugging off her blazer as she did so and tossing it on her book bag. She focused on her shadow, a dark figure that rippled across the green grass.

_It's just another guy,_ she reminded herself sternly. _Really. Just don't let him charm you and you're good._

And she wasn't thinking about Jerry.

Her mouth opened, and she called out, "Jerry!"

Even though she'd only yelled the taller figure's name, both stopped and turned around, watching her advancing figure with slight, nervous anticipation. She jogged the last few steps and ended up within two feet of them.

"Hey, Kim!" Jerry grinned as she came to a stop. "You're giving out the tryout results, right?"

Kim smiled quickly at Jerry's enthusiastic manner, not giving Jack a single glance—she simply ignored him. She figured the best way to prevent Jack from charming her was to act as if he wasn't there. "Yeah—I've been running around campus ever since school let out. Jerry, you made the team, obviously—goalie, of course."

"_Yes!_" Jerry exclaimed, fist pumping the air several times before his signature _woo_ escaped his mouth in victory. "Goalie, baby!"

Kim rolled her eyes, but a pleased smile curved up the corner of her lips. "What else, dummy?"

Kim and Jack watched Jerry's celebratory antics for another moment or so before Kim steeled herself and directed her next words at Jack: "I need to talk to you."

Jack's gaze was slightly alarmed, but Kim pretended to take no notice as she turned to the other player. "Jerry, can you give us a minute?"

"Sure!" Jerry agreed amiably. The teenager strode off, no doubt in order to find Milton or Eddie to tell of his success, leaving Jack and Kim alone on the field.

_Very _alone.

She now realized that even though she intended to tell Jack the result of his tryout, she had no way to start the conversation. The lengthy silence grew even longer as they both shuffled awkwardly.

_Be professional._

Thankfully, Jack was the one that spoke first.

"I didn't make it, right?" Jack hedged nervously.

Kim wondered if he was afraid of her, after the little speech she'd made that morning in front of the dining hall. He seemed reluctant to act confident, or even normal (which, now that she thought about it, he was normally confident). "I mean, obviously, you would have told me in front of Jerry if you were giving me good news, but now—"

Kim silenced him with a glare. "Would you be quiet and listen to what I have to say first?" she snapped, before mentally facepalming herself—she'd come off too harsh.

Jack flinched at her icy tone and nodded, silently urging her to go on.

"You…" Kim's eyelids slid over her dark eyes for a long moment, and she took a deep breath before continuing in a businesslike manner. There wasn't any reason she couldn't be professional about this.

"You're on the team," she informed him shortly. "Your position is most likely a forward or a midfielder. Practices are after school every day until around six o'clock. Today's is a little late, because I'm just now giving out the results of the tryout. First practice in about ten minutes. Don't be late."

Jack's mouth dropped open. "Wait, I actually made it?"

His sudden modesty irritated Kim a tiny bit. _Now_ he chose to act all humble?

"Do you want me to take my decision back?" Kim raised an eyebrow daringly, her tone challenging. "Because I can and I will if you're not willing to accept your position."

"No!" Jack protested hurriedly, his chocolate-colored eyes wide with sudden panic. "No, that's not what I meant, not at all—"

She cut him off swiftly, not in the mood for another confusing explanation. "Then it's settled, right? Don't be late for the first practice later this afternoon—you're going to meet everyone."

Kim didn't wait for a reply. She simply headed off to her dorm to get changed.

And Kimberly Crawford could only hope that she'd made the right decision.

Because if she hadn't…well…

It was all on her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For those of you who play Cause Of Death, the iPod/iPhone game, there is a direct reference to the episode "A Day In The Life" in here. Who can spot it?**

**This chapter was mainly Jack/Kim interaction and I hope you're happy with it, you manic, slightly scary, Kick-hungry fans. I've provided a little more insight on why Kim has been acting hostile towards Jack and her sudden mood changes—I hope it was good character development. I'm extremely unimpressed with this chapter and I'm convinced it was my weakest one yet, but if you guys enjoy it it's worth. **

**Anyway, thank you to you all for reading, and please review! Let's see if we can get to seventy reviews for this chapter! I know you guys can do it!**

**Review, my minions! (I figured lovelies was a little…weird.)**

—**A**


	6. The Elephant On The Field

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I'm sorry it took so long for me to update. I intended to update yesterday, my birthday, but after publishing my Grace/Jerry one-shot I found I had absolutely no other time, and I spent three hours writing some stupid papers by hand instead until about midnight. **

**For those of you that are confused, it's still me—I changed my penname. It's now _away-to-the-water_, and it's a reference to the Maroon 5 song "Come Away To The Water" from the Hunger Games soundtrack. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p><em>"Pressure? What pressure? Pressure is poor people in the world trying to feed their families. Working from dawn till dust just to feed their young. There is no pressure in soccer."<em>

_…_

_—Jose Mourinho_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER SIX: The Elephant On The Field<strong>

"Gosh, that practice was brutal," Julie complained, bending down to retrieve her water bottle and taking a large swig. The midfielder wiped the sheen of sweat off her forehead and cast a glance at the sun that was just starting to dip below the horizon. "I swear, Kim is getting less humane everyday."

Jack smiled at her as Milton patted her shoulder comfortingly. "You should see practices in select—but I agree, Kim runs us pretty tough."

Practice was, yet again, hard work. Sprinting back and forth under the blazing sun, taking shots at the goal, and dribbling around cones was not exactly Jack's idea of _fun,_ but he enjoyed pushing his body to its limits after his two-year hiatus from the sport. The satisfaction of being able to play on a team once again made up for the intensive conditioning.

The first game was tomorrow, on a bright and early Saturday morning, and Jack was beginning to fear for Kim's sanity. She was beginning to take on this manic look in her eye during practices. Jack had always passed it off as stress up until now but she had actually started to look insane the past few days…

Eddie voice pulled him back to reality as the defender shrugged nonchalantly, his forehead, beaded with sweat, betraying his obvious exhaustion as he panted. "Rudy encourages her. It's like they're robots."

"At least Kim does the exercises too, right?" Jerry pointed at the group in a sweeping motion and took a large gulp of his water as he began to pack up. "It's not like she's just making us run, she makes herself run too, yo. That's some serious swag."

"That…" Milton trailed off. "Was actually very insightful, Jerry."

"Thank god it's over," Grace practically threw herself down on the bench next to Jerry in her exhaustion, eliciting a surprised and slightly embarrassed expression from the latter. "I swear, Kim is going to turn into a monster at the game tomorrow. First game and all, right?"

Jack smirked and turned away, relishing the cold liquid soothing his parched throat. He didn't know much about Grace West besides the fact that she and Kim had been best friends since they were young and she and Jerry seemed to share something that hinted at little more than simply platonic feelings. The brunette buried her head in her hands, her long brown ponytail flopping forward and reaching towards the ground.

"Jack!"

Jack twisted around, confusion rising up inside of him at the familiarity of the female voice that had called out to him—especially because it was Kim. The blonde was wiping her forehead with a dark green towel and packing up her bag with exhaustion tainting her movements, shoving a few papers and her water bottle inside.

"I need to talk to you," she continued, and Jack scoured the field for Rudy—but the head coach had already packed up his materials and left.

Since practices had started earlier this week, he and Kim had barely exchanged two words. Avoidance seemed to be the game they were playing now, and Jack had to admit that Kim was very good at it. He'd wanted to clear up the confusion that they'd gotten into Tuesday morning, but unfortunately he could never find the right words to begin the conversation.

When he just stood there nervously, staring at her with a dumbstruck expression on her face, she rolled her eyes and straightened up. "Get over here, I'm not going to bite your head off."

He strode across the grass to the team bench and sat down, stretching his sore calves in the process. She plopped down next to him, pressing a plastic package she'd retrieved from her own bag into his hands. "Your uniform," she informed him shortly. "Open it up. I hope I ordered the right size—if I didn't, it's going to have to be a pain to get a new one by tomorrow."

He gingerly peeled the plastic covering back from the adhesive strip and slid the jersey out from the wrappings. The socks, shorts, and jersey were all dark green, in the school's colors, and plain white lettering across the jersey spelled out _Wasabi Warriors._

"It's the right size," he nodded after checking the inside of the jersey. "Perfect, thank you."

"Good," she nodded in relief.

Curiously, he flipped the jersey over and stared at the number for a long moment, pressing down on the surprise rising in him. "Number one?" he raised an eyebrow. "What an honor."

"Don't let it get to your head, Anderson," she muttered, standing up and acting as if she were about to leave. The stream of players filing from the soccer fields was now almost nonexistent; everyone wanted to sneak in a shower before dinner and had fled the fields for fear that Kim might break, lose all rationality, and call them back to run one hundred more sprints. "It was the only number we could get on short notice."

"Still, though," Jack shrugged, slipping the items of clothing back in the bag and sealing the plastic carefully, jogging a few steps to catch up with the departing blonde. They crossed the field in an awkward silence before he added, "I was being serious."

The corner of Kim's lips twitched. "So was I."

The rest of the walk passed in silence before they reached the fork in the path, the one that directed both of them to their separate dorms. Jack was now fully prepared to voice something that had been nagging at the back of his mind for the longest time, and it just burst out of him like water from a water balloon.

"You know what, Kim?" Jack blurted out before he could stop himself.

The captain turned around with an eyebrow raised. "What is it?"

"Whatever kind of guy you think I am," Jack shook his head. "I'm not him."

Her eyes widened just the tiniest bit of a fraction, but Jack didn't allow her the chance to deny or claim anything. "I just thought you should know."

Kim bit her lip, looking as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the exact words to. The silence stretched out until Jack decided that he'd had enough. Plus, he really needed to take a shower—he smelled.

Jack turned around to leave before adding, "Oh, and get a good night's sleep. I've seen the bags under your eyes, don't even try to deny it. Also," Jack muttered under his breath, "We don't want you biting our heads off tomorrow."

Her hard brown eyes seemed to soften the tiniest bit, and the faint outline of a smirk traced across her lips. "I'll try."

"Good."

* * *

><p>Milton loved music.<p>

It wasn't something he listened to regularly, as it distracted him from his schoolwork (which, next to soccer, was the most important thing in his life), but when he had a bit of free time or just needed to relax, he listened.

Last night, after pacing around his room for an hour, fretting about the game and effectively annoying Eddie to the point of the latter throwing a pillow at him in sheer exasperation, he'd finally broken down and caved to his instincts, digging around in a pocket of his suitcase for his trusty iPod. It hadn't been unpacked since the beginning of the semester, but he turned it on and saw that it was fully charged.

He'd fallen asleep listening to music, the worries of their first game of the season disappearing into the sweet melodies and soothing rhythms as the waves of sleep lulled him into unconsciousness.

The bus that was so kindly shipping them to their first game was pitching back and forth unsteadily as it bumped and rolled across the road. Milton felt a wave of slight nausea ripple through him, and he gripped Julie's hand tighter. Julie smiled back at him and his eyelids fluttered shut, allowing relaxation to take hold of him and pull him under, like a small boat just rocking gently on the surface of the ocean.

Every private school soccer game that took place in the district was held at a small complex of fields a few miles from Bobby Wasabi Private School. All of the private schools were in the outskirts of the big town they surrounded, San Jose, and going to their games meant that they had to ride a bus that specifically sent them into town, into the field complex. For games during the week, they would usually eat a quick dinner and then head off to the games. There was an exception to the weekend-only traveling rule, just for soccer games—students, with express permission, could leave campus only during the week for soccer games.

Talk about school spirit.

The bus ride was sure to last about ten more minutes, and—

Water.

Everywhere.

_What the heck?_

Milton flinched in shock and his eyes snapped open. He yanked his earbuds forcefully from his ears and held the cord and device away from his dampening body in order to preserve the iPod. "What the—?"

Water was running down his body, soaking his dark green uniform, seeping through his hair, and creeping dangerously towards his soccer bag. Milton instinctively swept the bag onto the floor, mentally reprimanding himself for his carelessness, and shivered at the water running tiny streams down his back.

He twisted around to look at the seat behind him and was met with the sight of Jerry, the goalie's mouth agape and an empty water bottle in his hands.

Kat, who was situated across the aisle in a seat next to Kyle, rolled her eyes and locked her iTouch, setting it down on the seat and smirking. Kyle merely watched the scene unfold with his blue-gray eyes. "Nice going, Martinez. You've completely _soaked_ the team's unofficial manager—how does that make you feel now?"

"Seriously, Jerry," Jack piped up. "First the coffee in our dorm, and now all the water over Milton?"

The brunet was perched in a seat in front of Milton and Julie along with none other than the team's captain. Jack had run back to his dorm for something at the last minute and while Kim usually got a seat to herself to go over captain-related issues for the upcoming game, Jack had been forced to sit by her due to a lack of remaining seats and slots. Neither of them looked too happy about the arrangement, but at least they weren't screaming at each other like they had been during the scrimmage portion of the tryouts on Monday.

"Sorry…"

Milton merely rolled his eyes at Jerry's apologetic tone, and noticed Eddie peeping out from behind the seat he shared with Jerry to get a good view of the drama. "It's fine, Jerry. Whatever. We're almost to the fields, anyway, and it's warm this morning. I'll dry off soon enough."

"I hope you will," Kim muttered without even tossing a look back at Milton. "Because a wet Milton David Krupnick is even more unattractive than the usual one."

Milton was now accustomed to Kim's snappish remarks, especially since the first game was in about thirty minutes and she had a lot riding on her shoulders as team captain this year. Besides, he'd known Kim for a long time, and was aware that she didn't mean any of the demeaning insults she usually spit out.

"Dang," Jerry muttered, his voice anything but discreet, obviously oblivious to Kim's stress as the captain scribbled out another lineup in frustration. "Who lit the fuse on her tampon today?"

When a pencil came flying from Kim's seat, its aim perfect, Jack dodging out of the way of Kim's swinging arm to avoid the flying projectile, no one questioned whom it had been intended for.

"_Hey!"_

* * *

><p>Jack swung his soccer bag from his shoulders and reached inside, feeling for his phone.<p>

Something had buzzed inside his bag from the Wasabi Warriors' trek from the bus to their predetermined field, and Jack was inclined to answer it in case there was something important. The thought that someone might be texting him stirred some curiosity within him. It couldn't be anyone from the team, could it? No, everyone was here—there was no need for them to text him when they could simply talk to him.

Jack's new cleats crunched across the half-gravel, half-sandy path that wound between all the lush green fields. He finally succeeded in digging his iPhone out and scrolled through the texts.

Huh. Nothing.

Jack started to wonder if he'd merely been conjuring the vibration, as if it were a figment of his imagination and not a real movement. Maybe he was convinced that his mother was going to text him, or that someone from school would, just to show—

"Phones away," Kim snapped from above him, stress clearly showing through her voice.

Jack looked up and realized that while he'd been lost in his train of thought, they'd arrived at the field and set their stuff down on the benches. He was kneeling on the grass, staring at the blank, black screen of his iPhone, and he quickly shoved it back into his bag and straightened up.

The opposing team didn't look too menacing, he supposed. Their offense looked solid but their defense was, at best, mediocre. Jack watched the team—the Lightning, apparently—warm up for a few more seconds before Kim clapped her hands loudly.

Rudy appeared behind the captain, returning from his mission of setting up the flags on their side of the field. "Come on, guys," Rudy coached them encouragingly. "You've been practicing hard all week, we can win this game. We've won them last year, we can do it this year. You can do it. You deserve to win your first game."

Encouraging mumbles rippled like waves through the group, but Jack merely shifted uncomfortably, his nerves starting to act up.

He hadn't played an actual game in almost two years.

"Right," Rudy nodded with a smile. "I'll turn this over to Kim. She'll be giving you positions."

Kim flipped a few papers on her clipboard. "Of course. We can do this, guys, just have confidence. Positions…Rudy, here, check things over—"

The captain offered the clipboard to Rudy, who scanned the chart before nodding in slight approval.

"Jerry, goalie," Kim began, and the entire team seemed to lean forward in anticipation. "Eddie, left defender, Kat and Kelsey, center defenders—Kat, play back, play sweeper. Jack—"

Jack's heart leapt at the mention of his name, and his head tipped towards the captain eagerly. He was relieved that he was going to be put in as a starting player—

"—right defender." Kim's breath seemed to hitch at the announcement of his position, and several shocked glances were shot his way, but she pressed on with an admirable determination. "Milton, left midfielder…"

Jack's hearing completely faded away as he stared at the ground in disbelief. He didn't even register the remainder of the positions that had been called out for the midfield and forward positions—his hearing seemed to have stopped working, as if someone had hit the OFF switch in his brain.

_Defender? _Right defender? In all his years of soccer, in both select teams and rec teams, he had played defender maybe three times. Forward had always been his forte, and now…_defender?_

A part of him registered the annoying but true fact that a good player had to be able to play all positions and that he should be grateful that Kim had not completely ruled him out for the starting lineup, but…

"Kyle, right forward," Kim managed to finish.

The end of the announcements was met with hushed whispering and comparisons, but Jack noticed that Kyle's blue eyes in particular were filled with shock and something that seemed to Jack like fear. "Kim—?"

"Come on," Kim cut him off smoothly, her goal not to be mean but to be efficient. The team crowded around the blonde-haired captain as she whispered, low enough so the Lightning couldn't hear, _"I'm proud of all of you, each and every single one of you. We can do this, got it? No matter what position you're playing."_

Jack had a feeling that this last remark was directed at Jack and Kyle especially.

"Now, come on!" Rudy cheered. "We've got a game to win!"

Jack took one last ice-cold gulp of his water bottle and jogged off onto the field, in a small group with the other defenders—Eddie, Kelsey, and Kat. He split up with them in the middle and veered towards his position.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed Kat motioning for him to move forward.

The game was just about to start. Jack watched as Kim took place of center forward, and for a moment he wanted to believe that Kim would play every game as center forward, the star, because she had the power to make that choice and she was that arrogant.

But, no. Jack had seen what Kim could do, up close. Jack knew the extent of how carefully she could aim a soccer ball, he was aware of how powerful her kicks were.

This lineup was not made to benefit Kimberly Crawford alone.

He was too lost in his thoughts to realize that the game had actually started—the sharp whistle of the ball going out-of-bounds brought him back to his senses, and he shifted right as a player on the opposite team threw the ball in, close to Eddie on the other side of the field.

Jack's muscles tensed, adrenaline starting to race through his veins, and he cursed as the forward on the other team succeeded in crossing it out of Eddie's range. The perfectly executed kick flew right to Jack and the player he was marking.

Jack had wanted to make a good soccer impression on Kim the first game—but not like this, not as a defender. For heavens' sake, he _sucked at defender—_

_Run, you idiot!_

Jack had been rooted in place, paralyzed with surprise for a second, before he jolted into action, silently swearing as he dove forward for the ball. He'd been psyching himself out, and it appeared that he still was.

Jack swiped nervously at the ball, but his nerves had set him off-balance—he completely missed contacting the ball between the player's feet and ended up doing some sort of stupid half-twirl as the player dribbled easily past him. The only thing Jack had done to benefit the team was unbalance the player, who stumbled slightly before pressing on.

_Crap._

His face started to burn a deep shade of red, and he quickly straightened up and sprinted nearer to the goal to cover Kat's position as she moved up offensively. She dove in for the ball and managed to steal it after a few seconds, taking it and dribbling it towards the outside, away from the players slowly streaming in through the middle.

Kat managed to deliver it to Eddie, on the left side of the field. The dark-skinned defender expertly dribbled it even farther, finally clearing it up towards Grace.

Jack was pretty sure his face was going up in flames from his embarrassment at his failure to defend the goal. He jogged back up to get in line with Kat, and as he passed her, he stopped, noting that she was keeping an eye on the ball, which was on the other side of the field.

"I—thanks for that," Jack managed to whisper lamely to her. "Sorry I didn't get it—"

_What the hell?_ He interrupted himself with his harsh, internal thoughts. Jack Anderson was a good player, a strong player, and one hell of a good forward. Why on earth had Kim put him as defender when his strongest point was a right or left forward? She had only tried mixing up the entire team's positions once, in practice on Thursday to show them that each of the positions was equally hard, and Jack had been placed as defender during that torturous practice.

He'd royally failed in practice, so why was he in this position in their very first game? Did Kim really hate him that much that she was sacrificing a possible team victory due to her vindictive feelings towards him?

From across the field, on the left, he saw Eddie shoot him a sympathetic glance and mouth the reassuring words words _it's okay_.

Kat reached a hand out and patted Jack on the shoulder, before withdrawing it and yanking on her high, dark ponytail to tighten it even further. "Don't worry, it's fine. It's your first game in a while, correct? First of all, you're not used to playing defense—"

Now fully convinced that his face was going up in flames, he ducked his head sheepishly. "Is it that obvious?"

Kat shrugged, "No, you just tried a technique that I'm guessing you haven't performed in a while. You didn't seem too familiar with it—if you want, I can help you practice a bit more at defense to get better at it. Two, you're nervous, right? Want to impress Kim? And you're thinking you failed, and you're wondering why she's doing this?"

"How did you know that?" While Kat had seemed to Jack as one of the sharpest tools in the shed, she had never appeared to him as completely psychic.

Kat laughed, her eyes flicking away from his momentarily to check on the game—Jack assumed it was a habit of hers now, being the sweeper and all. "I've been there, Jack. A while ago, I tried to overly impress Kim during games, and it may or may not work for you—but I tried too hard, and it definitely didn't work out for me. But if you want to play better, getting all nervous and insecure isn't going to help. Play what position you're given as best as you can and no one on the team will have any reason to blame you. Let loose a bit, yeah?"

"Let…loose…" Jack repeated softly for a moment. "I think I can try."

"Great!" Kat smiled. "Now quit looking at me, we have a game to win. I think Eddie would agree, as he keeps sending signals at me and you to stop talking. He really shouldn't do that, it's quite unattractive."

Following behind her, Jack muttered, "I swear, you're just like Kim. Ever thought of being a captain?"

"I heard that," she retorted without throwing a backwards glance at him.

* * *

><p>"You know, for someone that you guys were so impressed with, I'm surprised he isn't doing better," Kim commented, her dark eyes following Jack as he grabbed his water bottle and plopped down on the grass by Eddie, managing to force a smile before taking a swig.<p>

Kim noted with satisfaction that Jerry did not need a name to realize that she was talking about none other than Jack.

It was now halftime, and the score was now tied 1-1. One of the players on the other team had managed to chip a ball in the goal, over Kat, Eddie, Kelsey, _and_ Jack's heads—it was completely out of their hands, and out of Jerry's.

Or, rather, completely out of their feet, if that made sense. The ball had flown in at the impossible angle, and Jerry would have needed to possess the ability to jump up three more feet into the air than he already could if he wanted a shot at grabbing that ball. While Kim was disappointed, she was in no way angry at Jerry.

Besides, she had her own personal victories that made that loss seem sweeter. Kim had sent a ball flying into the goal, courtesy of a great pass from Kyle. She'd allowed herself to bathe in victory for all of five seconds before remembering that they weren't leading the game—they were tied, and they still needed to sink in another goal, if not two more, to win the game with a sense of victory in them.

Tied.

1-1.

So honestly, the game could go either way now.

Rudy was walking around and offering encouragement to the players sitting on the metallic bench and scattered on the grass around it, pointing out little flaws and providing tips they could use to correct them. Rudy trusted Kim enough to write the lineup all by herself now.

Kim was seated on the edge of the bench, with Jerry in the grass and Grace beside her, the latter talking with Eddie in low, hushed tones about something. She'd made an attempt to isolate herself; most of the team was on the other side of the bench and she needed time to write up another position chart.

"You're being too hard on him, yo!" Jerry protested, flipping his bottle upside down and squirting some ice-cold water on his head as if to add emphasis to his words, shaking his head like a maniac before continuing, his hair flicking icy droplets everywhere. Kim leaned out of the way, vaguely disgusted. "You know Jack's good at forward and then you put him at his weakest spot—defender!"

In Kim's opinion, Jack wasn't doing…_that_ bad as a defender. Kim was fully aware that the position of defender was nowhere near Jack's strengths, but it was better than putting someone else that had absolutely zero experience there. Jack gave off the impression that while he was superbly talented at forward, he could manage games in all of the positions. If Kim had written Jack up as a forward and put someone like Kyle, who wasn't doing too bad as a forward, on defense, it would be a disaster. Kim loved Kyle to death but honestly, Kyle was an offensive player.

Then again, so was Jack, so Kim didn't exactly know where she was going with this train of thought. All she knew was that Jack was slightly more…_flexible_ than someone like Kyle. He'd improved as the half had progressed, dusting off his rusty defending skills and polishing them slightly.

"Why on earth would you do that?" Jerry demanded, once he realized that his previous remarks were going to elicit no reaction from the captain. "_Why_?"

Kim shrugged, unwilling to acknowledge her mistake. "I was testing him. A good player should be able to play all positions, right?"

"Move him up," Jerry suggested.

"To where?"

Grace, who had been retying her long brown ponytail, looked over at Kim and Jerry, seeming mildly interested in their conversation. "Put him on forward," she advised, leaning forward and patting Kim on the knee reassuringly, something she always done when she was aware that Kim was tense.

"No," Kim adamantly refused.

"If not forward, then at least—" Jerry began to reason with her.

Grace finished up the sentence. "Put him at least on midfield. Let him play up—defense is not his strong suit, you know that. You should, anyway. And I know you do."

"Don't sass me," Kim muttered.

"It's true!" Grace retorted, her eyes flashing. Kim could detect the playfulness in the orbs, though—Kim and Grace had been friends for a long, _long_ time. "And you're the one sassing me."

Kim noticed Jerry sending Grace a shocked look, courtesy of her obvious support of his determination to convince Kim to move up Jack. "Thanks, Grace."

Grace shrugged nonchalantly, "I agree with you, Jerry."

Jerry turned bright red. "Yeah—um—okay. Dude, Kim, _please_ put Jack on forward. Right forward or left, it doesn't matter. I was talking with Kyle after you said you were considering him for forward for the second half and said himself he'd rather play midfield, like he did last year. You _need _another strong forward besides you and Grace—and Jack fits the description!"

Kim stopped twirling her pen and rested her elbows on her clipboard. "You _really_ want me to play Anderson as a forward?"

Grace nodded vigorously, her manner more enthusiastic now as she rolled her green prewrap off her outstretched leg and slid it into her hair, holding back her long bangs. "I'm left-footed, put him as right forward. You can be center, right? The one in the middle that makes all the shots!"

"And you two are sure about this?" Kim checked skeptically, looking as if she were being forced to jump in a pit of acid.

Grace and Jerry shared a glance before replying as one. "_Yes!_"

Kim refused.

They argued.

Oh, boy, they _argued._ Usually Kim was used to fighting with Grace—being best friends came with a price—but with Jerry backing her up, they were practically unstoppable. With Jerry's confusing, twisting "logic" and Grace's talent to sass Kim until she wanted to bang her head against a wall, Kim figured she would have had to give in at some point.

Besides, the allotted time for halftime and resting was about to run out and she needed to draw a new lineup, _quick. _Kim finally flung her clipboard at the ground in frustration. "Fine! I'll play Jack Anderson as a goddamn forward! Are you happy now?"

Jerry and Grace exchanged celebratory high-fives.

"But if he screws up…" Kim threatened, clicking her pen viciously. "It's on you guys, got it?"

The two brunettes exchanged a worried glance before returning their gazes to look at Kim innocently.

But the captain was already drawing up a new chart.

* * *

><p><em>Don't make me regret it,<em> Kim had said.

Jack replayed Kim's words over and over in his mind as he took his place at the center of the field, preparing to kick off. Grace was standing a few feet back, outside of the circle, on the left side, and now they were just waiting for the referee's whistle.

When Kim had announced the lineup for the next half, Jack's mouth had dropped, wide open.

_Jack, right forward, _she'd proclaimed to the whole team.

A huge, stupid smile had spread across his face before he pinched himself in an effort to lose it. He couldn't afford to seem cocky now, not when Kim was actually putting a degree of trust in him.

Kim had yanked him aside while all the players were filing out onto the field and muttered, _"Don't make me regret it."_

He'd stared right back into her dark, threatening eyes and given her a sharp nod. "I won't."

Jack was pulled back to the present as the center referee gave her whistle a sharp tweet, the shrill sound piercing the air like an alarm. Assurance stole through Jack. _This_ was what he was used to. This was his chance to redeem himself for the crappy performance he'd put on as a defender in the first half. He knew that no one blamed him for his less-than-perfect skills, but still, he felt the overwhelming need to compensate for that truly _horrifying_ playing.

Jack rolled the ball towards Kim, just mere inches away from him, and as soon as her foot touched the soccer ball, the forwards on the other team started to inch forward.

While Grace veered to the left, Jack darted to the right, and, quick as a flash, the ball was gone from under Kim's feet. Kim had sprinted forward and passed it straight to Jack, the gesture direct but still cautious. It was a fast enough pass that no one could intercept it in the second it took for it to leave Kim and reach Jack, but it was still careful—Jack could deflect it back towards Kim or even to Grace if he needed to.

He ran with it.

Jack dived to his right and caught the ball near the sidelines before he twisted sharply back towards the left, carefully evading the forward that was suddenly playing defender on the other team. It was a simple, sharp turn, and it came to Jack effortlessly.

His second obstacle was quickly approaching as he started on his path towards the goal, pushing the ball forward with the quick, precise movements of his feet. Jack surveyed the field out of the corner of his eye—Kim shooting straight up the empty middle of the field, as some of the defenders were aiming for Jack now.

Grace was a little bit behind Kim, farther left.

Jack's second obstacle was a midfielder, who attempted to simply kick the ball away from under Jack's feet.

_It's not going to be that easy,_ Jack thought in satisfaction.

Jack weaved around the ball quickly, leading the midfielder in some weird circular movement as Jack moved in a tight spiral, nudging the ball with the edges of his right cleat. The midfielder seemed to get confused as to why he was now running in a circle, chasing behind Jack. Jack sprinted forward as soon as the way forward was clear, continuing on his journey to the goal.

_One,_ he noted with proud conviction.

Jack sometimes had this weird one-two-three mentality—that he had to at least perform three good things in a row, in one single play, before something better would happen. Sometimes his way of thinking proved true, and sometimes it proved false.

Jack just liked to do things in threes.

An actual defender was moving towards him at a slightly alarming pace now. Jack feinted towards the right before cutting the motion cleanly in half and twisting in the opposite direction. He lost some of his balance, but quickly caught himself and charged flawlessly on, leaving the defender in the dust.

Or, um, in the grass.

_Two._

As soon as he'd passed that defender, the two middle ones—one of them a sweeper—charged forward to intercept Jack. He was still too far away from the goal to shoot and make a goal.

But not too far away to pass…

With one step back and a mighty swing, Jack sent the ball flying above his two defenders' heads, aimed towards Kim, who was getting closer to the goal with every passing second.

_Three._

His pass had been a little long, however—it was possible the wind had caused it to blow a little farther than he had intended for it to—and, also, Kim had not seen the goalie. It _sounded_ stupid, but when you were turned to the side, focused on receiving a pass from a fellow forward, you tended to miss some details. Some details weren't important, but a detail as big as a goalie _was._

Jack winced as Kim finally took note of the goalie charging towards her and the ball one second too late. Just as the goalie plowed straight into Kim in an attempt to snatch the ball, Kim managed to tip it with the edge of her cleat and aim it forward.

The goalie _pushed_ off of Kim—as in, forcefully shoved her back a few steps—and dove back to catch it just by his fingertips.

Jack whirled around to find the nearest referee, and he pointed at the goalie as the goalie prepared to punt it, winding back and tossing the newly retrieved ball in the air. "Ref—_ref!_ Did you see that? That was a _foul!_"

The referee must not have heard him, and although Jack was completely infuriated that the goalie's forceful action had gone unnoticed, he made no other move to get a referee's attention. Jack had played soccer for long enough to know that referees could be ignorant, they could be bribed, and they could be just lazy.

The important thing was to play well. Play well, and things would come out great at the end.

Jack felt the pressure that had just started to push down on him, though—the pressure of winning their very first game. Now that he was a forward, the expectation seemed to increase by tenfold.

"We'll get it next time!" Jack called across the field to Kim as he jogged back quickly to hopefully receive the kick the goalie had just executed.

To his surprise, Kim had been looking directly at him, and her response to his encouraging words was a mere jerk of the head, as if she was saying, _whatever._

"Welcome to Bobby Wasabi Private School soccer," Jack muttered tersely, providing himself with a welcome that, hopefully, wasn't heard by anyone else. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

* * *

><p>Kim was extremely pissed.<p>

Okay, so maybe _pissed _wasn't the right word. She was merely annoyed—and annoyed at herself, at that. Time was _running out—_and in the entire second half, they had not made another goal. The score was still tied at one. Desperation raced through her veins, twisting and tangling her thoughts so her movements and her shots weren't as smooth as they could have been.

Jack, however, seemed to be calm as a cucumber.

Kim didn't blame anyone but herself. She could have scored an easy goal at the very beginning of the half, if she'd paid more attention to the advancing goalie and adjusted her position just the slightest bit to receive Jack's pass, but she hadn't. There was now maybe two minutes left in the game, and Kim wanted to end the first game with a _victory,_ not a _loss—_but unless Kim, Grace, and Jack could squeeze in a goal in this short amount of time, a tie was in store for them.

After another failed shot at the goal by Grace, the goalie reared back and punted it. Kim positioned herself on the field strategically as she caught sight of Kyle controlling it and then aiming it to Grace, who received the pass without a hitch and started to dribble forward.

Sweat poured down Kim's face, despite the fact that it was still morning, and she swiped at the perspiration impatiently, refusing to let it sting her eyes, as she darted around a player and started for the goal. _Time is running out,_ she reminded herself. _You need to make this freaking goal and then—_

Desperation took over her thoughts, lacing them and twirling them, and she just shut out her thinking completely, focusing on the game and allowing her instincts to take over her body.

Thirty feet to the goal. Kim was keeping pace with Grace as the brunette dodged another midfielder—

Twenty feet.

Kim noticed Jack's hurried sprint, straight towards the goal, into the goalie box, several feet away from Kim. Julie had moved up in midfield to cover Jack's position, and Jack was gazing around frantically—but it seemed that the defenders were more focused on Kim as she neared the goal and unconcerned with him.

As soon as Grace had deemed herself close enough to the goal, Grace's leg swung forward, crossing it high.

_Too _high.

It completely flew over Kim's range, above her head, in a perfect arc. The captain couldn't have stopped it if she tried.

Instead, it was aimed to Jack. _Specifically_ to Jack. Kim knew Grace's playing style, and she was fully aware that wherever Grace wanted to kick it, there it went. She made no mistakes, her aim was never off. Grace was the best crosser on the team.

Passing to Jack had not been a mistake.

Kim's mouth dropped open as Jack headed the ball, knocking it towards the ground before it bounced a few more feet into the air, several feet from Kim. There was no time to steal it from him or demand that he pass it to her—not with the little time they had left. Time was the one thing they didn't have and in her mind, Kim visualized an hourglass, just barely enough sand left to—

_Damn it! _

On the next bounce, Kim watched helplessly as Jack spun around, trying desperately to beat the defender getting closer and closer with every second. He tapped it higher with his foot, attempting to get it under control, doing this weird karate kick move that sent him spinning sideways in the air—

_Swish._

The goalie missed it.

Kim stared in obvious shock at the goal, at the ball _sitting_ in the corner of the net, at Jack's wide-eyed, grinning expression, and the overall surprise radiating on the field.

He'd scored.

Jack Anderson—the Wasabi Warriors—had _scored._

The world erupted in chaos.

All she heard for the next few minutes as they shook hands with the opposing team and bounced around was the phrase, _we won! We won! Jack did it! _

_We've won our first game,_ Kim thought dryly, her mind dazed and tired and still slightly numb from shock but still functioning enough to spit out some sarcastic thoughts. _All thanks to the newbie. _The euphoria on the field and the excitement connecting the Wasabi Warriors was nearly tangible, and she smiled and offered congratulations to everyone else but Jack. It wasn't out of spite, but rather out of…out of…

Out of what?

For some reason, she felt resentment spreading through her. Last season, Kim had always been the one that was the hero at the end of the games, the one that would tip a ball in the net at the last possible minute, the fierce female forward.

And Jack had scored the winning goal in his very first game.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kim had seen Jack eyeing her every now and then as if to gauge her reaction, even as teammates and fellow classmates surrounded him to pat him on the back and yell their congratulations. Several people surged up to Kim as well to express their happiness at her talent for leading the team and the sheer concept at their first win of the season, but she felt nothing. Instead of just celebrating with the team, she methodically packed up the clipboard, her pens, and walked around to the other side of the field to grab their flags, her steps numb, her mind still trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

As soon as she returned, the team was ready to leave. Rudy had gone ahead to alert the bus driver, trusting Kim to handle everyone safely.

Jerry grabbed the sleeve of her dark green jersey and practically yelled in her ear, "Kim! First victory, yo! Can the whole team go into town tonight and celebrate or something?"

"Sure, whatever," she replied vaguely, not even registering the words. "Why not? Just ask Rudy to confirm."

Jerry whooped appreciatively and the team erupted in happy exclamations again as they started out in a huge swarm for the buses, victory getting to their heads.

As she followed behind the group, she had a nagging feeling that she was supposed to say something to Jack. Something like…like…

"Jack!" Kim called out before she could stop herself.

The brunet conversing with Jerry abruptly stopped and turned around, taking in Kim's frozen figure before motioning for Jerry to continue on. He jogged a few steps back towards her and they began to trek forward again, at a considerably slower pace.

"What is it?" Jack questioned, his delighted brown eyes suddenly alarmed. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kim waved him off, a red blush beginning to creep up her cheeks—was she really that cold? "No, no, it's not that."

Jack nodded slowly but didn't seem to be interested in starting the conversation.

"Um…" Kim shifted uncomfortably. "Nice…nice goal. It was really good. You know, you had good…form, and stuff…"

She was sure that she continued to ramble embarrassingly on about his game-saving goal for the next thirty seconds, but something in Jack's expression cut her off.

A radiant smile lit up Jack's features. "Thanks."

Kim smirked, finally allowing herself to relax. "You're very welcome."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Like I said, sorry it took so long for me to update and I hope this chapter made up for it. I was in a hurry to get it up on the website but I hope you're still satisfied. I am convinced that this is my longest chapter yet. ****As you can see, I didn't write out the whole game and I'm not planning to for any of the other chapters—I will provide what happened between the sections of the game you see and I will probably only include the crucial parts, as I did in here. I feel that the ending of the game was too rushed but maybe I'm just being paranoid.**

**Anyway, I did succeed in getting Julie and Grace up as characters in the Kickin' It archive, so maybe that will encourage you to write more stories about them! **

**Like I said, yesterday was my birthday and since you guys can't give me concrete presents, I guess reviews will just have to do, haha.**

**Review, my lovelies! Thanks for reading!**

—**Ariana**


	7. Know Thy Enemy

**A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews! This is by no means my story with the most reviews but it's doing as I expected, after you take into consideration the fact that it's AU, there are other pairings BESIDES Kick (Gasp! The horror!), and Jack and Kim hate each other at the beginning. **

**DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to Taylor, or _ForeverWithFaith_, as today is her birthday. I was planning on writing a one-shot for her in honor of her birthday but life got in the way—I just barely managed to post this, so this chapter will have to fill in as her birthday present. Taylor—sorry if it's not good enough. She just posted a phenomenal chapter of "The Hunt", her current story, so go check that out, for me and for her! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAYLOR!**

**WARNING: There is a bit of language in this chapter. I'm just warning you now, because I'm aware that some of you don't like language. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It. I also do not own Instagram, though I do own all the Wasabi Warrior's hurriedly made-up usernames and Jerry's…interesting one—see if you can spot it…I also do not own the movie _The Hunger Games_, but it was a spectacular film.**

* * *

><p><em>"I am a member of a team, and I rely on the team, I defer to it and sacrifice for it, because the team, not the individual, is the ultimate champion."<em>

…

_—Mia Hamm_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER SEVEN: Know Thy Enemy<strong>

Jack was feeling victorious.

It was an understatement, actually. Jack felt as if he were situated on the very top of the world—he'd just played his first game (with mixed to positive results), scored the winning goal, and earned at least a degree of respect from the cold captain. If that didn't allow him a few minutes of giddy happiness, he didn't know what did. The day's temperature was growing even warmer as they trudged across the complex to their waiting bus driver, but the heat had no effect on Jack's high spirits. In fact, they seemed to be matching his satisfaction.

But of course, nothing good ever lasted.

They were so close to the bus—along the main, big path, where there were several different stations and stands set out for various tasks—when a male voice called out.

"Hey, Kim!"

Even though the greeting had clearly been meant for the captain and not himself, Jack's head twisted to the side all the same and he noticed a group of three boys huddled by the main food stand. The one that had called out was blond, with sunglasses over his eyes. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been odd—it was just one teenager calling out to another—but his tone had been mocking, as if he'd been trying to bait an answer out of her.

Jack watched closely as Kim's head turned towards the sound of the voice in slight confusion. As soon as she saw the person that had spoken her name, her dark eyes flared in recognition and—was that _pain_?

By now, the entire team had halted to a jarring stop in their tracks, huddling around the food stand in a protective U-shaped formation, with Kim and the three boys at the very center. Jack could sense the tension in the air, rippling through the team as they all stiffened, sending sudden, accusing death glares at the blond.

Jack was utterly confused now. The rest of the team obviously knew this blond guy so why didn't they just say something? They all remained silent.

And Kim was just—?

Kim was frozen.

After no one had dared to move, the blond shifted his attention from Kim to everyone else. His eyes, hidden by dark sunglasses, gave no indication that he was interested in anyone else at all—but his slowly revolving head did.

"I see you've healed up," the blond nodded carelessly in Jerry's direction after a few moments, his tone offhand. He didn't even mention Jerry's name but it was obvious that the comment was directed towards Jerry and only Jerry.

_Healed up?_

A flash of hurt raced across Jerry's face before the goalie slipped on a mask of indifference and simply glared at him, with the a emotion Jack had ever seen Jerry possess—a hate and pain so powerful Jack seemed to be feeling the waves and the aftershock from where he stood, a few feet away.

Jack returned to observing Kim out of the corner of his eye, anticipating her reaction to this odd statement, and noticed her wince like she'd been sucker punched. She bit down on her bottom lip so hard Jack was surprised it didn't draw blood and cast her eyes down at the hard ground, eyes filled with something that looked like remorse, guilt.

What was wrong with her? What could have happened to make her like this in front of the blond? Jack hadn't known Kim for long but he was well aware of the fact that Kim didn't take crap from anyone, and, according to the hurried whispers he'd managed to pick up on during his first week of school, her fiery, sarcastic temper was legendary, rivaled only by Kat's.

The wind whistled through the complex. Anyone who was passing the fields on their way along the main path stared for a few seconds at the standoff, but made no move to stop it or find out what was going on. Jack himself didn't even know what was going on.

"You know," the blond started again, turning to Kim once more. The curly-haired player next to him shifted menacingly, cracking a few knuckles. "You might as well say something to me, Kim, since we _were_—"

They were _what—_?

Jack never got to figure out, however.

"Shut _up_, you asshole!" Kat burst out.

Jack's eyes grew even larger in diameter as the raven-haired defender pushed her way up from the back of the group, slipping deftly between Jack and Jerry. Kyle followed soon after, stopping at the edge, where Kat was glaring at the blond.

Kat threatened, "Do you _want_ me to hit you again? Because I can and I will. What you did to Kim and Jerry was absolutely horrible. You need to go and—"

The next words she spewed weren't exactly…appropriate.

The blond's eyes took on a faint hint of alarm, and he stepped back involuntarily before regaining his footing. "Oh, it's you," he shrugged carelessly, but Jack could detect a bit of fright in his voice. "I remember you."

"Good," Kat threw her words at him, as if they were knives. "Because I _love_ to make lasting impressions, especially on complete _pricks_ like you."

Jack couldn't see Kat's eyes, but he could see her shoulders tighten in obvious dislike and aggression. Jack and Kyle shared a look of mutual agreement and reached out at the same time, each of the two players grabbing one of Kat's wrists and pulling her back before she could keep her promise and actually strike him.

"Get off of me!" she hissed, before wrenching her hands free. However, she made no move to attack the three opposite boys after that. Kyle murmured something in her ear, and she relaxed visibly, though the glare of deep dislike never vanished.

Half the team's eyes were now on Kim, as the disagreement was obviously between her and the other blond no matter what Kat had done to interfere. Kim looked stricken, and she hadn't made a single move since the beginning of the confrontation had started.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Ricky demanded.

A resigned smirk began to creep across the captain's face. "Sure."

"Well then?"

"Fuck off, Ricky," Kim spat viciously.

However, there was something lacking from her voice—conviction? There was an emptiness to her words, as if she was simply saying them without any meaning behind it.

Jack had never heard this tone come from her.

Still, Jack couldn't stop the wide grin that had spread across his face at that demand. After a few seconds, the team continued down the path, kicking up little clouds of sandy gravel and leaving the group of three behind them.

The excitement from winning the game seemed to have evaporated.

Jack wanted to ask Kim about the obvious tension between her and the boy she called _Ricky_, but he had a sneaking suspicion that if he even tried to get close to her right now, she would bite his head off. So, doing what was best for the preservation of his life, he dropped back to Kyle and Kat, letting Jerry, Eddie, and Milton take off after Kim and catching instead snatches of the pair's conversation.

"Jesus, Kat," Kyle was reprimanding her as soon as Jack came within earshot. Kyle's blue eyes were exasperated and he ran a hand through his dark hair, effectively spiking the front up even more. "Do you want _another_ red card because of him?"

She rolled her eyes, unconcerned. "We weren't playing a game."

"Wait, you got a red card because of him before?" Jack cut in, eyes wide. In all his years of soccer, he had never gotten a single red card. He'd been dealt a fair amount of yellow cards in his past playing experience due to his uncontrollable temper, but he had never performed anything bad enough to earn a red card. "Why?"

"I—"

"_Kat,_" Kyle explained sternly, ignoring her outraged glare at his interruption, "had a bit of a…disagreement with Ricky over Kim during our last game last season and called him an asshole. And then she slapped him. In front of the referee," Kyle added, almost as an afterthought.

"It was over Kim?" Jack checked.

Kat nodded uncomfortably in confirmation.

"What did he do to her?" Jack whispered, casting a furtive look back at the platinum blond soccer player, still standing at the food stand, before scanning the area to pinpoint where Kim was. The honey-blonde captain was still striding ahead of the group, her pace increasing in speed as the rest of the team struggled to catch up to her.

Kyle was about to say something, but Kat cut him off and sent an apologetic look towards Jack. "It's not my place to say…if you want to know, ask her."

"You know, I don't think that's likely," Jack muttered.

The team trudged onto the bus, their victorious manners now slightly subdued. Jack slid into his previous seat beside Kim and while he noticed that she didn't exactly kick him out or toss a snarky remark his away, he probably would have preferred the latter as she now looked…dead.

No, dead wasn't quite the right word. Defeated would have been a better choice. Kim's brown eyes were usually full of the emotion she was feeling—whether it was indifference, anger, fury, or frustration—but now they looked completely empty.

Hollow. Broken.

Jack had half a mind to go back on his previous statement to Kat and Kyle and ask her what was wrong, but one more look at her slightly slumped figure and he decided against it.

The bus pulled away, neither of them saying a single word to each other.

* * *

><p>Instagram was addicting.<p>

Jack had never been interested in getting an Instagram before he transferred to Bobby Wasabi but after finding out that the school actually encouraged having accounts—as long as they didn't interfere with schoolwork—Jack had created one.

His first objective had been to follow everyone on the team, and sure enough, it looked like everyone on the team—or in the whole school, as a matter of fact—had an Instagram. Jack was still a little confused as to how it worked, but as the Wasabi Warriors entered the mall and rode the escalators up to the movie theaters, he decided to open up the app on his iPhone and take a look at what was happening.

He scrolled down, his eyes capturing every picture that popped up. Images of different players on the team flashed by—heck, even Rudy had an Instagram and he'd posted a picture a few hours ago of him and his cat, Tip-Tip.

Jack had to stifle a laugh at the animal that was clearly dying to slip away and 'liked' the photo immediately.

There was Milton and Julie together, the photo edited so that the colors were faded out, giving off the impression of warmth and love. A picture of Jerry dancing, his movements caught in one single frame. Eddie eating something in the cafeteria. Kat and Kyle just messing around, having fun.

Grace and Kim, with wacky hairstyles and just laughing their heads off. Jack assumed that this was taken after the game, where the captain had finally found some time to relax and let loose. This was the most easygoing Jack had ever seen of Kim and it was quite unnerving, though not entirely bad. Kim's ponytail was tied right on top of her head and she was laughing at the camera, which Grace held precariously in her hands.

The next thing that caught his eye was a photo of the entire team. Some student must have taken the photo after the game and forwarded it to one of the Wasabi Warriors, because the individual who had posted the photo was Kim.

Jack scrolled over to his profile and was surprised to see that the fiery blonde was following him.

Tapping back to the photo, he examined it closer, and upon further observation concluded that the entire team was there. Kim's back was to the camera, as she and Rudy were giving speeches to the team, but it was obviously taken after the game had ended—while their huddle was exhausted, they also had a look of triumph in everyone's eyes. Jack spotted himself, at the front of the huddle, looking at Kim and Rudy with slightly dazed grin on his face, his goal obviously still the thing at the very front of his mind.

He read the caption below the photo curiously.

_K_Crawford27: Great way to start the season, guys! First victory, and it's not going to be our last! GraceWest256, TheSwagMasterJM, xKatMChen, EddieS34, MDKrupnick, JulieAlex13, JackA_17…_

The list went on, 'tagging' every single Wasabi Warrior on the team. Jack was pleasantly surprised to find that he had been included as well and proceeded to stare at the photo for a long moment, studying it for another second before 'liking' it.

On sudden impulse, Jack clicked back to Kim's account page and flicked a glance at the photos that were displayed on the main page. Some were quotes, some were funny photos, and some were actually of Kim. Photographs of her looking loose, carefree, much less uptight than he'd ever seen her—

"What are you doing?"

Jack's head snapped up and he hurriedly locked his iPhone, Kim's profile page disappearing in an instant and leaving behind an empty, black screen. "Huh?"

The blonde herself was staring at him, as though he'd just grown a second head. Her eyes flicked down to Jack's iPhone screen suspiciously before traveling back up to meet his. "I asked you what you were doing. We need to buy movie tickets to the movie and you kind of just…zoned out."

Jerry had made good on his determination to get the Wasabi Warriors a movie night and, after requesting express permission from Rudy, had succeeded in his quest to have the entire team eat at the local Braum's and then travel to the movie theater situated inside the mall. The point was to celebrate their first win, and Jack couldn't really say that he was bored—this was actually a lot of fun. The excitement of winning their game had not abated over the past few hours and now that they were actually here with intent to celebrate, their victory seemed even sweeter, even fresher.

"Right," Jack nodded. "Uh, what movie are we watching again?"

"_The Hunger Games,_" Kim supplied.

Jack refrained from saying that he'd already seen the movie and nodded, "Cool, cool."

The rest of the team had moved up in the line and already purchased their tickets, and were waiting at the snack area for the two to catch up. Jack caught Jerry's eye, the latter grinning at him before turning back to his wide-eyed conversation with Grace. Jack had heard that Jerry asked Grace to go with him to the movies as friends, which, to Jack, seemed a little pointless, but he supposed that for Jerry and Grace, it did mean something.

Kim, however, instead of hurrying Jack along impatiently, peered up into his eyes warily.

Suddenly, Jack was thankful he had at least an inch or two on her, as it gave him a feeling of _some_ confidence that he somehow never seemed to possess around her. While her manner wasn't overly friendly, she seemed to have softened enough to act like they at least knew each other.

She was dressed casually, and Jack nearly shook his head in awe at how a mere change of clothes made her appearance look friendlier, softer, gentler in a way. A dark blue top made of some unknown fabric draped over her slender figure and her white skinny jeans were topped off with dark black ankle boots. Her overall facial expressions were less uptight and stressed, and Jack had to say that it improved her overall looks a lot—not that she wasn't pretty without these clothes.

Wait, what?

"If you're not going to say anything," Kim rolled her eyes impatiently, and Jack shook his head vigorously, erasing the confusing thoughts, "Buy your ticket, and we really need to get into the movie theater because—oh, no."

Jack immediately looked up from the ticket stand and he slid a few bills over the counter slowly, following Kim's gaze as her dark orbs landed on another large group of teenagers.

Jack could already tell that they were here as a group—they moved as one and while they looked different, their intentions seemed to be the same—to intimidate. Jack's eyes roved over the multiple students, taking notice of a petite, feminine figure with platinum blonde hair cut bluntly to her chin, a short kid with dark brown hair, a blond—

Wait…was that _Ricky?_

He instantly recognized the blond soccer player even from this distance—however, he wasn't just surrounded by two teammates, he was surrounded by maybe seven times that much.

Jack began to understand the source of Kim's dismay as he examined the group closer. They appeared to be a team now, as they were all wearing the same jersey as though celebrating a victory, and the leaders were none other than Ricky—the doll-headed blond they had confronted at the food stand earlier at the complex—and an auburn-headed girl with a tall physique and confident, striking green eyes.

"Hurry," Kim murmured harshly in his ear.

Jack didn't even know who this other team was, but he heeded Kim's command, hastily scooping up the ticket from the counter and hissing back, "Who are they?"

"The Black Dragons."

Jack's eyebrows shot up his forehead just the tiniest bit but he was determined not to let his surprise show through too much. As Jack and Kim neared the Wasabi Warriors, the two teams seemed to face off right in the middle of the movie theater lobby, glaring at each other.

Kim pushed her way forcefully to the front of the Wasabi Warriors' huddle and Jack, not knowing what to do, followed close behind. Kim flung back a look of warning but by then, Jack and Kim had already burst out onto the edge of the confrontation, facing the other two main players.

Jack felt, for just the tiniest fraction of a second, like a peace treaty negotiator.

The thought was so weird that he pushed it out of his mind almost instantly.

"Ricky," Kim spat, completely foregoing any civil greeting.

Jack's eyes widened even further but he placed a light, restraining hand on Kim's shoulder before releasing it quickly as though he'd been electrocuted, as she'd tensed up immediately at his touch.

Ricky didn't appear as if he was going to bother to respond. Instead, the blond's eyes traveled up and down Jack, as if sizing him up, and Jack felt unease course through him before he pushed it back, letting his calm, cool, and in control personality take over.

He considered his options before choosing a diplomatic approach. "Hey, I'm Jack," he introduced himself, his voice friendly enough not to be threatening but still guarded. Jack offered a hand forward, daring any of the two players to take it.

Jack could almost feel the surprise rippling through the Wasabi Warriors as they noted his politeness.

Ricky glared at Jack's outstretched hand with an air of distaste—he obviously recognized Jack from earlier today—but the auburn-haired player stepped forward and took it, her green eyes colliding with his as she did so. "Hey, Jack," she greeted him, her voice as smooth as silk. "I'm—"

"Donna," Kim interrupted, her voice twisted with accusation, and Jack immediately turned to look back at the blonde.

The auburn-headed girl's lips twitched up in a smirk that hinted at condescension. "Good, you remember my name, huh? I'd be a little surprised if you didn't. We've…known each other for a long time."

There was a long beat of silence as Jack hurriedly dropped Donna's hand and stepped back. After staring into the opposite's eyes for just that short amount of time, he immediately knew that this girl's beauty masked devious intentions underneath; she couldn't be trusted.

Donna raised an eyebrow at his sudden severity but let it go.

All of the Wasabi Warriors waited with bated breaths, watching to see how this would play out. To Jack's surprise, no one—not Jerry, not Eddie, not Milton, not even Kat—had come to break the tension or further emphasize the rift between the groups. The two teams were deathly silent, and Jack was instantly reminded of the beginning of a soccer match, when the forwards from each team would face each other before kickoff, glaring and trying to intimidate.

"Of course I remember you, bitch," Kim snorted, and Jack was pulled back to the present situation. "And believe me, as much as I want to, I can't erase you from my memory."

Donna smirked. "Good. I always love making lasting impressions."

Jack's mind flickered back to something—hadn't Kat said something like that earlier today?

However, his train of thought was once again derailed as Donna turned her attention back to him. "So, you're the newest addition to the Wasabi Warriors, huh?" Donna arched an eyebrow at him, her head cocking to the side as she drew out, "How…wonderful."

"Yeah," Jack stood up straighter, now fully convinced he didn't like this girl. He worked on injecting pride and defiance into his voice—something he was very talented at—as he retorted, "Yeah, I am. Problem?"

Donna waved it off airily, but her cold green eyes showed the shock she was evidently experiencing. "None at all. Just…surprised."

"Don't be," Jack snapped back at her. Screw his original plan of diplomacy—if Kim had any reason to be mad at Donna, Ricky, and the rest of the Black Dragons, Jack was going to follow right behind her. Though Kim might be judgmental at first, Jack trusted Kim's instincts and it seemed that there was a _lot _of history between the Wasabi Warriors and the Black Dragons.

Besides, according to Jerry, the Black Dragons from Seaford Preparatory were the Wasabi Warriors' biggest enemy—the latter always kept coming in second to the former.

_Not this year, _Jack promised himself.

"Listen," Jack broke the silence again, ignoring the alarmed glance Kim sent his way. "We'd really love to stay and chat, but we've got a movie to get to. So, see you later. Or maybe not, if we're lucky."

Jack reached down and tugged on Kim's elbow just the slightest bit, and the motion seemed to jar the blonde back to reality. Kim had been engaged in a glare-off with Ricky while Jack had been conversing with Donna. Jack had almost felt the hate waves bouncing between them but he'd chosen to ignore it.

As Jack passed Donna, he noticed the redhead wink secretively at him.

Just as they were about to enter the movie theater, the team following quickly behind them, Kim grabbed Jack's arm and tugged him sharply around the corner, allowing the rest of the team to file into the theater while they skidded to a stop in front of the restrooms.

"What?" Jack asked, confused beyond belief. Though a little shocked, he was in no way unnerved or intimidated by the Black Dragons—merely slightly bemused.

Kim's dark eyes were dangerously intense. "Do not, under _any _circumstance, trust Donna Tobin—that girl you met back there. We go way back…sadly."

"You care?" The words came out harsher than Jack had intended for them to, but he couldn't deny his perplexed and slightly bitter feelings. Honestly, Kim had spent nearly his whole time at Bobby Wasabi Private School so far just ignoring him and now she was giving him secret advice? What strange mood swings were she experiencing?

That, however, transpired to be the wrong thing to say. Kim's cheeks rose dramatically in color and temperature and she drew herself up to her full height, gaining about two inches in the process as she glared daggers at him. "I was just offering advice that would work out in our best interests, but I'll feel perfectly fine if you don't want to take it."

"Like I said," Jack repeated, aware that he was being a jerk; even in spite of her attempts to be nice, a rare treat, he had to let his personal feelings get in the way. He barreled forward, regardless of his stupidity, "why do you care?"

"It's my responsibility," Kim snapped, her voice as sharp as a knife's edge, her tone implying that Jack was a complete imbecile. "You're on the team and I'm the captain—I should be looking out for everyone, not just myself. I don't know if this is _caring, _per se, but—"

"Relax, Kim. I wasn't going to trust her," Jack finally surrendered to the voice of reason trilling shrilly inside of him. "I'm not stupid."

Kim bit her lip, obviously trying to find her next words, and for some reason, Jack couldn't help but compare her to Donna. While both were strikingly beautiful—yes, he considered Kim beautiful, despite her snappish manner—they were like night and day. Kim, while she was sarcastic, was actually good, her motives and intentions pure (for the most part, at least). Donna was more open, flirtier, easier to talk to, but Donna had ulterior motives.

Jack was suddenly thankful that Kim was his captain and not Donna.

"G—good," Kim nodded jerkily. "That's all, then. Stay away from Donna, she's dangerous and seductive. Don't make the same—"

The blonde cut herself off at this point.

"Don't make the same…?" Jack repeated, prompting Kim to finish. "Same what?"

Kim's face flushed, and for a moment, Jack noticed that same deer-in-the-headlights stare she'd worn earlier, when confronted with Ricky back at the field complex.

"Nothing," Kim snapped, her concerned manner now completely evaporated into thin air. "Hurry up, we'll miss the movie."

Kim left Jack standing here, watching as she wrenched open the swinging doors to the movie theater and disappeared into the darkness without another word.

* * *

><p>"Why aren't you watching the movie?"<p>

Kim's head swiveled to the side just the tiniest bit, barely making out the figure of the person who was obviously speaking to her—but the motion wasn't needed.

She recognized the voice.

The blonde continued to stare down over the bridge connecting the second-story parking lot and the mall, her eyes focused on a couple exiting Nordstrom's and unlocking their car. She scrutinized their every move, from the way his arm wrapped tenderly around her waist to the kisses he planted on her cheek. "Figured I needed some fresh air."

And fresh air was the one thing she desperately needed right now. The whole confrontation with the Black Dragons had been unnerving, and what shocked her even more was that she'd let her personal feelings towards Ricky get in the way, and Jack had been forced to deal with Donna without her help. Even if she didn't particularly like Jack right now—she thought of them as mere, cold acquaintances, teammates, nothing more—no one deserved a punishment that terrible. Donna's sheer beauty was her VIP pass to everything the world offered, and even if Kim couldn't care less about who Jack was interested in romantically, being seduced into a relationship with Donna was a huge no-no.

It was something that Jack seemed to have picked up on rather quickly, all by himself.

Smart boy.

So much for a fun movie night—this celebration had taken a sharp, steep nosedive. She'd snuck out of the movie theater when her thoughts had started to take over her ability to enjoy the movie and although she loved _The Hunger Games,_ she just couldn't stand sitting in that dark theater any longer.

"I don't see why you need fresh air," Jack replied in an offhand tone, still several feet behind her. "We got enough of it this morning at our game. Plus, _The Hunger Games_ is a really good movie. Too bad you're missing it."

"Aren't you missing it too?" Kim returned, just grasping at straws to divert the conversation in a different direction.

She could almost visualize Jack's polite shrug. "I've already seen it."

A long beat of silence.

"So why are you here?" Kim sighed, a tired gust of air escaping her lungs as she felt the cool evening breeze wash over her, ruffling her top lightly and swirling her hair. "Giving me the latest team report or something? Who's throwing the popcorn at who in the theater? Who's been kicked out already? A nice, well-rounded team report?"

Jack's footsteps grew louder as the soccer player inched closer to Kim, the latter still pointedly ignoring him. He stopped at a respectable distance away—not too close, but near enough that it was slightly friendly. "Would you like one?"

"Sure," Kim rolled her eyes, despite the fact that Jack couldn't see her face. "Why not?"

Anything to diffuse the tension.

"Well…" Jack hedged. "Jerry's been throwing popcorn at people in the front row. Another warning and the people are kicking him out."

Kim hummed, slightly unimpressed.

"Kat's been acting pretty weird," Jack tried again, his tone light, almost conversational.

Kim's eyebrows rose slightly. "Weird as in…how?"

Jack's voice was now sharper, with a hard edge to it. "According to what I saw and heard earlier, she had cuts on her left arm. Kyle was confronting her about it in the snack line or something. It was after the movie started—I went to go get a snack since we didn't get a chance to after meeting the Black Dragons and the two happened to be there as well."

"Cuts?"

Jack nodded in confirmation, his face impassive.

Kim felt a ripple of shock, mixed with doubt, run through her. She turned to look the brunet in the eye, her mind calculating and processing rational and irrational explanations as she demanded, "And what did Kat say?"

"She said she tripped in some bushes outside the girls' locker room," Jack shrugged, as if he didn't know what to make of the explanation. "Just fell and scraped herself. Thing is, I already know Kat doesn't trip—and when she does, she won't admit it. Those cuts were too deep to be just scratches."

Kim paled slightly, and she turned to face Jack fully for the first time. "You don't think…"

Jack remained silent, his gaze neutral as he shrugged, his brown eyes now cast towards the hard concrete two stories below.

"No," Kim whispered. "Kat's not the type to cut herself, is she? She's too strong for that. No, she wouldn't."

She felt like she was trying to reassure herself.

"You've known her longer than I have." Kim didn't miss the fact that Jack had pointedly avoided her question. "If anyone should be judging this, it's you or Kyle, not me."

"What did the scratches—cuts, whatever, look like?" Kim asked, not even sure she wanted to know the answer.

Jack had to consider this. "Short, kind of. Some were long. Some were bloody, some were just tinged pink. A few were parallel, right next to each other—"

"Razor," Kim whispered softly. "She's using a razor."

"We don't know she's cutting," Jack offered, as if his simple statement somehow patched everything up like a bandage. "It could just be a coincidence. I don't think it's her style."

_And it wasn't my style to just—_

Kim cut off that bitter, biting thought with a spoken question—anything to get her mind off this topic, off the realization that one of her teammates, one of her friends might be driving blades into her skin. "What's the real reason you're out here? If it's to give a report, which I don't think it is…you really suck at it."

Jack laughed quietly before his manner sobered. "You left unexpectedly," he stated. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

"How very caring of you."

To his credit, Jack did not take the implied bait in her sarcastic tone. "And…are you okay?" he prodded.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know," Jack answered, honesty ringing through his voice. "But if you're not…well, it's always okay to say what's on your mind to me. I won't judge."

Kim snorted. "It's not always okay to say what's on my mind."

"Of course it is. To me, at least. I know I don't know you very well and I know that you don't like me, but you can always talk to me…even if that sounds cheesy."

A small part of Kim was tempted.

She was tempted to let him know everything, though she barely even knew his middle name. She'd kept these feelings bottled up inside of her for so long, for over a year, and they'd resurfaced at an even greater strength after she'd met Jack. All this guilt…this self-hate…everything she wanted to finally be able to tell someone, once and for all. Jack was offering her a chance to share her burden, to dump this all on him and share the weight.

But how much could Jack actually be trusted? How far would he go to see what was on her mind, to pry and prod and genuinely want to know what was wrong with her?

Okay, Kim admitted it—even though it was shallow, she wanted someone to chase after her.

To ask her what was wrong.

To implore, to seek out the source of Kim's troubles.

But…she couldn't do that. Doing so—revealing her deepest, darkest secret that Jack still did not know yet, though some of the team already did—it would make her weak. Vulnerable. And as the captain of the soccer team, she just couldn't afford that.

"No," she whispered harshly, pitching her voice just loud enough so that her denial would reach Jack's ears.

Kim could almost feel him deflate in slight disappointment, but he surged on bravely. "You don't want to tell me?"

_Yes—yes, I do._

She couldn't force her lips to part, but to Jack, the silence seemed to work as an affirmation.

"Okay, then," Jack nodded, that one gesture sending Kim's hope crumbling down like it had been hit by a wrecking ball. "It's your choice, I won't interfere—it's your business, not mine."

Kim felt as if a scream were about to rip itself from her lungs. Hell, for the first time, prodding was the one thing she _wanted_ him to do! She wanted him to ask, to pry, to finally get the gut-wrenching, guilt-ridden truth out of her so she could stop feeling this _horrible,_ this _dirty,_ this _hateful toward herself—_

"Yeah," Kim spat bitterly, her softening manner towards him now solidifying with new strength. She'd let her walls down and he hadn't cared enough to venture past them. _This_ was why it didn't pay off to be nice to someone like him—they didn't care for her enough to actually want to know who the person she was, they didn't care enough to make sure she was really okay.

She'd learned this a long time ago, and this new lesson had just emphasized it; when you let people in, when you let yourself hope, all you do is get let down. Disappointment flooded through her, so suddenly and so strongly that her fingers tightened on the railing, her fingernails digging into the smooth paint.

A part of her vaguely registered the fact that he was merely trying to allow her privacy, that she wasn't being fair to him, but the strong, hot-headed part of her ignored that and instead focused on her petty disappointment.

Anger started to course through her veins like a drug, filling her to the brim with resentment—mostly at herself. Jack was just the poor, innocent bystander that happened to be in the path of her destructive rage, her disappointment, her selfish needs, her self-pity. Jack had done nothing wrong except for the fact that, in Kim's eyes, he should have cared enough to keep asking her what was wrong.

But he had not. Kim couldn't blame him, but the fact was that he had _not._ She hated the fact that he respected her enough not to ask, to delve into her personal business.

She hated herself for wanting him to.

Why could he, just this one time, ask her—?

No.

She would not let herself indulge in self-pity, in shallow pathetic puddles that would get her nowhere. She was Kimberly goddamn Crawford.

She did not do _pathetic_ well.

"Good," Kim nodded sharply; she ignored the small part of her that still urged her to tell Jack what was on her mind and the whiny, hurt feelings that stemmed from Jack's respect for her and her problems and the fact that he hadn't tried any harder to understand her. This was going to be a thing of the past. Maybe, instead of letting herself hope, she would just revert back to her old manner towards him—cold, professional, nothing more.

Jack looked slightly taken aback. "Good…?"

Kim turned on her heel without further explanation and strode toward the movie theater door, Jack following hesitantly behind her as she tossed back, "Maybe it's better that you don't know."

And it was.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, this chapter did have some character development and you've met the rest of the Seaford Black Dragons! Kim's major plotline is hinted at _a lot_ in this chapter, especially in the beginning and at the end. However, I have refrained from telling you directly. A minor plotline was also introduced for another character—my OC, Kat. I'm trying not to focus too much on her but I thought I'd throw in some minor drama. OCs are not my primary concern unless I am spending too much time and words on them, so do tell me if I am.**

**I've decided to be generous and include a sneak peek of the next chapter ****in honor of Taylor's birthday****, titled "In The Heat Of The Moment". Take a look!**

_"Do you think she's dead?"_

_Kim jerked awake violently, the familiar voice shaking her out of her slight nap. Her back emitted several relieving cracking noises as she stretched her body this way and that, her arms swinging out to satisfy the stiff joints. "No, you idiot, I'm not dead," she muttered, rotating her neck in a slow circle to release the pain._

_Jerry and Grace stood above her, both changed out of their soccer uniforms. They'd evidently taken showers, as Grace's long, dark hair was still slightly damp and Jerry didn't smell…well, horrible, like he usually did after a game in hot weather. Kim's eyes swept around the rest of the waiting room and sought out Milton, Julie, and Eddie, all whispering among themselves, occasionally throwing sympathetic glances at Kim._

_"You've been here the whole time?" Grace raised her eyebrows, placing a hand on her hip and using the other hand to play with her scarf, made of a dark blue material that contrasted with the light colors of the room and her pale, nearly translucent skin. Kim didn't miss the slight smirk that spread across the brunette's face as she tacked on, "Impressive."_

_Kim didn't even want to know what Grace's mind was conjuring up right now—knowing Grace, it had a seventy-five percent chance of being dirty and perverted—and instead chose to throw a glance down at herself, still in her full soccer gear—jersey, shin guards, socks, and cleats._

_"Yeah," Kim grumbled, pushing her sore body up into a sitting position. "I tried to get here as fast as I could after the game—and unfortunately, time didn't give me an opportunity to shower and eat like you guys…"_

_"Kat would have come," Jerry piped up, and here his eyebrows knitted together in slight confusion. "But she said she had to do something in private."_

_Kim waved it off, "Yeah, I know."_

**I hope you enjoyed it. I have nearly half of chapter eight written out and that was your little sneak peek into it. I intentionally started and ended the excerpt so I don't give you any major spoilers. **

**So now, I must leave you with some speculation questions—first of all, where are the Wasabi Warriors? There's a minor clue above but it's not terribly obvious. Why are they there? Do you guys have any guesses as to what's going on? **

**Again, happy birthday Taylor! I hope this chapter (kind of) counted as a present! I repeat that I'm sorry I didn't get to write you your own one-shot but I just couldn't find the time. You deserve a wonderful birthday, especially with what you've been going through lately, and I do hope your birthday is spectacular. Love you, so much!**

**Anyway, review, my lovelies! I'd love to hear what you think of the next chapter and the excerpt so far!**


	8. In The Heat Of The Moment

**A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! We made it to one hundred! Thank you to everyone who has ever supported this story!**

**To the reviewer who pointed out that Jack's only purpose at his new school so far is impressing Kim—I assure you, that's not the case. I have at least a minor plotline planned out for every single character and Jack's is introduced in this chapter—in the beginning, in fact, so I hope you enjoy. He will also have a _second_ plotline, but it comes into play near the end of the story, the climax, so don't worry about it for now. ****Eddie, Milton, Rudy, and all our other beloved characters _will_ play roles later on in this story, don't worry. In fact, one of them appears right at the beginning…along with the intro to Jack's plotline.**

**Again, some language in this chapter. Ignore it, if you can. If you can't, that really sucks for you.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It or a song mentioned in this chapter, "Love Drunk" by Boys Like Girls.**

* * *

><p><em>"I was surprised, but I always say nothing surprises me in soccer."<em>

__…__

_—Les Ferdinand_**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER EIGHT: In The Heat Of The Moment<strong>

"He's dead?"

Eddie stopped in his tracks at those two words.

Weaving around the corner, the dark-skinned player ducked behind the wall and peeked out once more, trying to gather as much information as he could with his eyes without revealing himself. Concentrating on quieting and steadying his choked breathing, he mentally scolded himself for spying on someone—_anyone_—before his genuine curiosity won him over.

He'd merely been returning from a morning jog. No harm in that, right? Completely innocent.

Okay, so Eddie wasn't exactly known for his physical fitness—even if he was on the soccer team—but he had originally thought it would be a good idea to try running in the mornings every now and then, just for his personal health as well as a regular routine to follow. It had taken nearly all his willpower just to push himself out of bed this early in the morning and after he'd run about one lap outside the dorm room, he'd lazily declared it a start and decided to shower. He was exhausted from last night's practice and figured he might as well get some more sleep in while he could.

And then he'd come inside to…well…this.

Eddie's eyes sought out a brown-haired figure pacing back and forth in the hallway, just outside Jerry's dorm room. Upon further examination, Eddie concluded that it was, in fact, Jack, and the brunet seemed agitated as he listening to whoever was on the other end of his cell phone, trying to cut in but evidently failing.

Why Jack would wake up so early in the wee hours of the morning to take a simple phone call was still a mystery to Eddie, but he stayed silent and merely watched as Jack wrung his left hand angrily. "No, I'm not _sad_ about it!"

More mumbling. Straining his ears, Eddie thought he could make out a woman's voice, just a tad bit hysterical, on the other line.

"No, I'm not coming home for the funeral," Jack snorted, as if the notion were outrageous.

Eddie's mouth dropped open.

"…You want me to be there?" Jack voice dropped down to a stunned whisper.

The woman's voice, muted, responded slower this time, the words flowing gently.

Eddie watched as Jack's previously softened expression morphed into the cold, outraged mask he'd been wearing in the first place and his voice escalated in volume. "No, I do not want to come to the damn funeral! I couldn't care less even if he was fucking leader of the free world—and he was much less than that. For god's sakes, he _abused—_"

Eddie's eyes were as round as saucers now—_abused?_

Did he hear Jack correctly?

"What?" Jack cut himself off, lowering his rising voice. "No, no one's listening to this conversation. I'm outside my dorm room, everyone else is sleeping."

As if to reassure himself, Jack cast another sweeping glance around the wide dorm hallway, his dark eyes examining the darkest corners, and—

_No, quick,_ Eddie screamed mentally to himself. _Duck!_

In his desperation and his clumsiness, however, Eddie somehow succeeded in tripping over his heels and sprawling to the ground with a mighty _thump, _all the wind knocked out of him.

Jack's eyes immediately met his, his orbs snapping immediately to the source of the noise, and Eddie stayed on the ground, frozen in Jack's brown, angry, fury-filled glare. This was the angriest Eddie had _ever_ seen Jack and it frightened him, to put it lightly. Jack had always come off as the guy who was nice if you were nice, the one who respected you, who treated you kindly—

But now the brunet's eyes were going up in a sort of dark fire, black flames, and something about his stare warned Eddie to stay put and not even try to escape. "No one's listening," Jack repeated again, the lie rolling off his tongue without hesitation. "Look, I have to go, school's starting soon—"

That was another blatant lie, as school started wasn't due to begin in about another hour and a half—Eddie was just up earlier than everyone else, attempting to engage in a lame jog that never really played out the way he wanted it to.

"—I have things to get ready for and everything."

Mumbling, a woman's voice hurriedly speaking on the other end, as if she were offering Jack a quick deal.

"No, it's fine," Jack shook his head. "I don't want to come home for the funeral—we can't afford to waste money on plane tickets for sending me back home, anyway."

Eddie didn't miss Jack's face flush a pale pink at the mention of money (or his lack thereof), but the latter continued, "Besides, I'm just getting started at Bobby Wasabi—I made the soccer team and everything, there are games and stuff on the weekends…yeah…I know…buy him some flowers or something. Or not. He doesn't deserve them either way. Just don't take it too hard, okay? I still care about you."

Jack listened on the other end for another few seconds before huffing sarcastically to himself and putting on a falsely cheerful tone. "Whatever. Bye."

The brunet locked his iPhone and exhaled angrily, shaking his head at the dark screen in obvious contempt. His gaze turned to stare down at Eddie for a long moment before reluctantly offering him a hand.

Eddie suddenly felt very foolish, just sprawled out on the ground like that, and he quickly took it, pulling himself up to directly meet Jack's gaze. "Look, man, I'm really sorry—I didn't mean to—"

All of Jack's previous anger seemed to have dissipated, and he waved it off, his movements almost seeming weary. "Don't be, it's fine, I probably would have done the same thing. But…I have to know, how much did you hear?"

Eddie swallowed convulsively. "Um…"

For some reason, he didn't want to divulge the entire truth—that he'd come across his conversation right at the mention of a dead person, whoever it might be.

"Never mind," Jack shook his head sharply, his impatience causing another ripple of regret to course through Eddie. "Just…do me a favor, okay? Don't mention it around campus, don't tell anyone. I don't know what you heard but I just got to this school, it'd be nice to have some peace before things from back home start catching up with me."

Eddie nodded vigorously, "Of course."

"Thanks."

Eddie's head started spinning, his mind churning out different possibilities before he remembered a rumor he'd heard—that Jack was attending this school on a full scholarship. It wasn't completely implausible—tuition here was pricey, and it would explain the plane ticket excuse he'd used—but Eddie wouldn't have expected it.

Then again, Jack did have that constant determined look in his features, the expression that told you he was used to working hard to get what he wanted and took nothing for granted.

"Is it money issues?" Eddie blurted out before he could stop himself, then cursed his lack of tact.

Jack had already started retreating back to his room, but he twisted around and stared at Eddie with a forlorn expression on his face, staying silent for the longest time as though debating what to respond.

"I wish that was all it was," Jack murmured with a slightly twisted smile before he disappeared behind the door.

* * *

><p>The rest of the week passed without disaster.<p>

Surprising, right?

Milton sat in his dorm room, perched at his desk, tapping a pencil thoughtfully as he flipped back and forth between the charts cataloguing the players' progress as well as interesting tidbits of their personal lives—things that could possibly impact their physical performances. He took his job as unofficial team manager very seriously, and always drew up these reports in his free time. Plus, tomorrow was their second game, and Milton was using this Friday night to maximize on his strategizing and his mental preparation.

He noted, with a grim scrawl, that the rumors of Kat having cuts on her arm transpired to be true. Milton had taken a good look at her in French class and he'd watched her carefully as she'd slung her blazer over her chair and rolled down the sleeves of her white blouse. That action in itself was very intriguing, mainly due to the well-known fact that Kat always kept her sleeves rolled up, claiming that the school-issued blouses got in her way. However, the aforementioned sleeves had been immediately been folded down as soon as she entered the classroom.

Milton had managed to take a look at her forearms. Her right one was unblemished, but her left bore cuts—some faded, some a deep red, but cuts all the same.

"What?" she'd snapped as soon as she'd caught him looking at her arms, by that point shielded by the white sleeves. "Is there something on my shirt? What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," Milton had replied hurriedly. "Sorry, I was daydreaming."

Interesting. She was still the same Kat on the outside—proud, stubborn, strong, _I-don't-give-a-crap_ Kat, but…

The dorm room swung open, snapping Milton out of his speculative thoughts, and Milton swiveled around in his desk chair, watching silently as Eddie strolled in, an ice cream from the dining hall clutched in his hand.

"Hey," Milton murmured in greeting, setting the clipboard down. "Is the ice cream good?"

Eddie shrugged carelessly. "Sure. It's always the same."

Milton smiled tightly. "Of course."

Eddie raised an accusing eyebrow. "Why so chatty all of a sudden? You never ask about my _ice cream__…"_

Milton shrugged uncomfortably.

"Hey—do you think Jack's been a little…preoccupied this week?" Milton piped up, before wondering where that question had come from.

Eddie fixed him with a slightly blank stare.

Regardless of how random his question had been, it held at least some semblance of truth. Jack's performances during his first week and in the second half of their first game had been stellar—but the usual fire present around him during practices had dulled down a little bit, as if someone had blown out a few of the flames. Milton had been wondering what was wrong but he hadn't dared to ask.

One crisis was enough for him.

Milton rushed to fill in, "I mean, he's been kinda off lately…"

"Don't judge him," Eddie snapped harshly, his tone now surprisingly aggressive. "You don't know what he's going through right now."

Milton's blue eyes widened at Eddie's sudden defensiveness and sharp tone. "And you do?"

At this, Eddie's face shut down. He pitched the remainder of the melting ice cream cone into the trashcan and turned away to organize his books. "Not just Jack. I meant in general. The same with Kat—for all we know, she could just have fallen into a bush like she said. You shouldn't jump to conclusions."

The topic of Kat's potential troubles faded quickly from Milton's mind, despite the severity of the matter, and he leaned forward eagerly, "Wait, do you know anything about Jack that I don't?"

"He likes mac-and-cheese pizza," Eddie deadpanned. "How's that?"

Actually, Milton couldn't tell if Eddie was being sarcastic or not—often, it was hard to tell. He _did_ happen to be talking about food, though, and Eddie never joked about food. Maybe he was telling the truth. It was quite possible that Milton was just overthinking things—he had a great tendency to that.

So why did his gut tell him otherwise?

* * *

><p>Kim hated playing afternoon games.<p>

Morning games were her forte, as it was bright enough to see but not so hot that she happened to sweat buckets. Midday games—games that took place from around one to three or four o'clock—she detested them with a passion. In the summer, or in the fall, they happened to be at the hottest time of the day and resulted in profuse impatience, sweating, and swearing.

Not very fun.

There was also the issue of eating an actual meal before a game, something she extremely despised. Eating slowed you down, forced your body to work hard to digest all the food before the game had even started. She pushed the sandwich on her plate around with a fork, absentmindedly stabbing it in the middle, sharp, shiny prongs sinking into the soft white flesh of the bread, and twirled it so that it spun on her plate. The team was all gathered for a late Saturday lunch before their game at three o'clock, but eating was the furthest thing from her mind right now.

"Are you going to eat?" Grace demanded.

Kim raised her eyes, unconcerned. The first thing her brown orbs landed on was Jerry, Milton, Eddie, and Julie's table—where Jack sat as well, talking and laughing with them. If this had been last year, she would have sat with them. On a few rare, occasional days, Grace would even join them.

Now, she was halfway across the cafeteria, with the rest of the Wasabi Warriors.

She tugged her eyes away from the table and from Jack's excited face and focused on checking the weather on her iPhone for the fiftieth time, mumbling, "I'm not hungry."

"Obviously," Grace's tone was sarcastic. "But you do have to eat something."

"I'm well aware of that," Kim snapped back at her before closing the weather app in frustration; the temperature during their game was going to skyrocket into major, record-breaking heat. Wonderful. "People who don't eat die."

Grace rolled her eyes, sass coming off of her in waves. "No, really?"

"Really," Kim drawled before taking her knife and proceeding to cut her sandwich into tiny pieces. "I—hate—hot—weather—"

Grace raised her eyes from her salad. "How hot is it going to be today?" the brunette nodded at Kim's iPhone, a flicker of concern appearing in her calculating eyes.

Kim sighed and continued to saw at her food. "Um…near one hundred degrees, almost, by the time we start to play. It'll only get hotter, and it's _extremely_ sunny today. I can't _wait…_"

"Ew," Grace wrinkled her nose. "Gross. Sweating. Remind me why I play soccer again?"

Kim shook her head, smiling slightly. "Because it's great, it's fun, and it's worth it."

"You were the one that begged me to try out with you back in freshman year!" Grace exclaimed, as if the memory was just now resurfacing in her mind. "Along with Eddie, Milton, Jerry—"

A wicked grin spread across Kim's face. "You only tried out because I told you Jerry was also trying out…"

"Did not!" Grace protested. "You roped me into it."

Kim acknowledged this accusation with a nod of her head. "Yes, are we done stating the obvious?"

"And you really need to go easier on us in practice," Grace started her launch into the ways Kim was becoming inhumane. "I mean, fifty sprints? At the _end,_ after we're all tired and sweaty and limp? Do you want us to, like, live at all?"

"No," Kim retorted sardonically. "I just love having dead players as a result of my practice methods. Now eat. Before I _make_ you eat."

Grace saluted her sarcastically, refraining from commenting on Kim's own lack of chewing. "Yes, captain."

* * *

><p><em>"Hot sweat and blurry eyes, we're spinning on a roller coaster ride, the world stuck in black and white…"<em>

This was Kim's pre-game playlist. The pre-determined list on her iPod was comprised of an assortment of songs either designed to a) motivate her mentally or b) get her blood pumping and her heart racing. Currently, this song was doing the trick by performing both tasks—it was a dance-y, pop song. There was a hidden meaning behind it, though, and the lyrics flowed into her ears as she followed along with the warmup drills the entire team was performing in preparation for their game.

Discretely pulling out her iPod from where it was hidden in her pocket, she quickly checked the time before Rudy could notice and sped forward again, taking a shot at the goal, warming up her legs with a nice, easy kick that Jerry caught quite easily.

Ten minutes to game time.

Even though they were simply warming up, Kim already felt the afternoon sun beating relentlessly on her back, and she swiped the sheen of sweat off her forehead, focusing on controlling her breathing. She attempted to lose herself in the song as a distraction, but the humidity and the pure heat in the air seemed to constrict and press against her lungs, warping the air until it seemed nonexistent.

"_I used to be love drunk, but now I'm hungover, I'll love you forever, forever is over…"_

The artists on this playlist varied, including random, motivational songs by Eminem, Maroon 5, All Time Low, and even some Linkin Park. Kim wasn't picky about who she listened to, as long as they were good and weren't completely trashy.

The opening notes of "How You Love Me Now" by Hey Monday had just started to pound in her ears when she felt someone tap her shoulder, and she turned around, trying to tamp down on her annoyance. It had been a while since she'd listened to these songs, and while she didn't believe in fate, they did hold some sentimental value within the lyrics and the beats.

"What?" Kim popped an earbud out.

Milton was standing behind her, "Team huddle. Plus, Rudy needs to send out you and another captain to do the coin toss."

Teams with no appointed captain usually offered two random players, different every game, to oversee the coin toss and determine which team was guarding which goal. However, since Kim was an official captain, she chose another person, often decided on the spot, to take with her to the middle of the field.

After a second's consideration, she grabbed Kelsey's arm and after another minute in the center of the field, they determined which goal they would be attacking.

Rudy was just finishing up his motivational speech as Kim and Kelsey neared the team huddle. Kim pulled out the chart she'd been writing that morning and rattled off the positions that everyone would be playing with a businesslike manner. After listening to her rational side, she'd put Jack as a right forward again. Despite whatever antagonistic feelings she might be directing towards him, he really was talented as a forward and she couldn't let personal issues get in the way.

"Drink lots of water, guys," Kim reminded everyone for the fiftieth time. "It's our first game in really hot weather and dehydration is something I'd love to avoid, okay?"

Several players reached down to take large swigs from their water bottles, but Kim popped her earbuds back in, desperate to get in another song before they were cleared by the referees to assume their positions on the field. She reached down below the bench and grabbed her water bottle, taking a large, calculating swig as she watched the other team jump around in a circle as part of their motivational chant.

She watched them for another moment and sank back, allowing her eyelids to close for half a song before straightening up, wrapping the headphones around the iPod and stuffing the device inside her bag.

Like she'd reflected, she didn't believe in luck or fate.

But she had to admit, it was quite lucky how in the first five minutes of the game, she managed to tip the ball successfully in the goal, courtesy of a great pass from Grace.

Chalk it up to divine, musical intervention.

* * *

><p>Jack hated the heat.<p>

He supposed that he should have gotten used to it, after spending the majority of his life in Texas, where it got as hot as all get-out, where the sun seemed to burn into your skin.

But for some reason, the heat always seemed to take a toll on him, it always struck him by surprise.

He'd conditioned himself to drink as little water as possible, simply because he hated the feeling of water sloshing around his insides while he ran. He still remembered one of his earlier games, when he'd been younger—the weather had been sweltering, and he'd drunk nearly half his bottle at halftime and running in the second half turned out to be a challenging task. Water bouncing around in stomach—that was a horrible feeling, and it made Jack twitch just thinking about it.

Jack allowed himself a small sip from his water bottle at halftime, focusing on reviewing the game so far. Kim and Grace had both scored, and the score was now 2-0. Jerry's goalkeeping skills hadn't ceased to amaze Jack yet and he didn't think they ever would. Setting small goals during his games had always been a habit of Jack's, and he decided that for the second half of the game, he would score one goal—if not two.

Absentmindedly, he swirled his tongue inside his mouth, probing the insides for moisture before coming to the hesitant conclusion that he didn't need any more water. He remembered a soccer poster he'd seen in a storefront, with the caption, _WATER IS FOR THE WEAK. _The memory of the poster brought a smile to his lips. Jack always had a tendency to deprive himself of water, but right now, he didn't see anything wrong with that. More water just meant more sweat, right?

If Milton were next to him and Jack had voiced his thoughts out loud, Milton would have commented that sweating was his body's way of cooling himself down, but Jack digressed. Standing up from the bench, he began to jog in place lightly, warming up his stiff muscles. A hand reached up and wiped away the sweat accumulating on his forehead, and he wished the sun a cold death sometime in the very near future.

"Dude," Jerry looked up at him from the ground, "did you drink _any_ water?"

Jack cast a glance down at Jerry, who was clutching his bottle as if it were his lifeline. The goalie didn't run as much as everyone else, but there was also the fact that his dives and leaps required a lot more effort. Also, the extra layer of clothing he was forced to wear didn't exactly cool him down. Jack knew how stifling that jersey and those gloves were, and he was once again thankful that he wasn't goalie.

"I drank some," Jack answered vaguely before a wave of vertigo washed over him. He stumbled to the side, catching himself on the metal bench before straightening up again.

Jerry's eyes widened even further, "Dude, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jack gritted his teeth, confusion starting to twist his thoughts. What had that been? A sudden weakness in the knees? He'd never done that before. His vision seemed to spin for a few more seconds before he stood up fully, shaking his head sharply to clear the haze. "I'm fine," he repeated in response to Jerry's dubious glance. "Really."

A small voice inside of him implored for him to take at least another sip of water, but at the last minute, his pride decided against it. He didn't need water—it would just slow down his running and his accuracy. Plus, Jack had a bad habit of just gulping water down without any inhibition once he got hold of it. He couldn't afford for that to happen, couldn't risk the loss of his self-control. He wanted to play the entire half, and if it meant spending it a tiny bit thirsty, so be it.

"Right," Kim clapped her hands, the sound loud and jarring. "Here's the positions for the second half!"

As she read off the chart, Jack noted his position—right forward again—and focused on a single blade of green grass on the field, concentrating until he only saw one image and not three.

They were about to depart onto the field when Rudy caught Jack's shoulder. "Wait, Jack."

"Yeah, Coach?"

Though Rudy was older than him by several years, Jack already had a couple of inches on the short coach. Rudy's eyes were concerned as he nodded towards the huge team water cooler, "Did you get enough water? It's only getting hotter, you know. I didn't see you drink much."

"Of course I did," Jack smiled. "Don't worry."

His steps onto the field seemed to take an eternity, and he remembered being slightly perplexed as to why everything seemed to be tilting around the edges, warping slightly.

"You okay?" Grace murmured as he passed her.

"Fine," he called back.

Was it just him or were they overreacting? It seemed as if every player was watching his water intake critically, and it was freaking him out.

He was fine.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes had passed before Jack finally allowed himself to admit that there was something wrong.<p>

His passes were now erratic, his legs weak and jelly-like. He felt as if he were floating, his feet nearly lifting off the field as he sped forward with the ball. It was as if his weight wouldn't settle on the field as he rose up and down—he seemed to be…buoyant?

Jack squeezed his eyes shut as he took a wobbly shot at the goal, the angle good but the power behind it not strong enough. The goalie managed to tip it from the confines of the net and dashed forward to pick it up, winding back for a huge punt that sent it all the way back to the midfield.

He jogged slowly, expecting to receive a pass, and stumbled on the sidelines, nearly toppling onto a spectator.

_What's going on?_

Milton succeeded in stopping the ball and with a mighty kick of his left foot, sending it up to Grace, who tapped it a few times, passing it back and forth between her feet before starting forward again, her long brown ponytail flying back in the slight wind. Jack attempted to trudge towards the goal again before he had to throw a hand out to steady himself, as the world seemed to be tipping sideways again.

He nearly had to sink to his knees before mentally smacking himself at his show of weakness, pushing himself up and charging forward, drawing from some unknown reserve of energy.

He stopped in his tracks.

Looked around at the spinning world.

Blinked rapidly.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he registered the fact that his body was _screaming for water, for liquid—_

He was on the other side of the field, and his water bottle was at the team bench.

Too far away.

How could he have been so stupid, so _arrogant_ to think that he could just play an entire second half without any reenergizing liquid in his body?

Dizziness.

Again.

Kim's eyes were wide, mixed with slight apprehension and the tiniest hint of concern. She started towards him, the game completely forgotten. Even some of the players had ceased in their vigorous, moving formations to ogle at him and his obvious dizziness.

He smacked his lips—no liquid. Nothing. His tongue probed his mouth in a panic, coming up with a less than satisfactory result. His mouth was dry and bitter with the slightly unnerving taste of a lack of water, of saliva.

It hurt to swallow.

Jack paused and tried to work up some spit; the ball, a slightly awry pass from Grace (who was staring at him, perplexed) rolled right past him as he swayed on his feet unsteadily. He stumbled before jogging in a wavering line towards the ball, something in his mind telling him to push on despite his current, multiple setbacks.

Why were their black _spots_ fading in and out of his vision—?

"_Jack!_"

The voice was female, sharp, fearful, cutting into his swirling mind like lightning through a dark thunderstorm. He vaguely noted that it was Kim, and her voice spoke out again, though he couldn't even discern the separate words and what they meant. Something about water? And trouble?

Suddenly, the headache overwhelmed him, pain starbursting in his mind, showing no mercy. Shouts sprinkled into his hearing, filtering into his ears as colors started to swirl, to mix, to blend in a psychedelic—

The world seemed to slide out from underneath his feet, plunging him into a cold, welcome darkness.

* * *

><p>"Do you think she's dead? Oh my god, she's totally dead. What are we going to do?"<p>

Kim jerked awake violently, the familiar voice shaking her out of her slight nap. Her back emitted several relieving cracking noises as she stretched her body this way and that, her arms swinging out to satisfy the stiff joints. "No, you idiot, I'm not dead," she muttered, rotating her neck in a slow circle to release the pain.

Jerry and Grace stood above her, both changed out of their soccer uniforms. They'd evidently taken showers, as Grace's long, dark hair was still slightly damp and Jerry didn't smell…well, horrible, like he usually did after a game in hot weather. Kim's eyes swept around the rest of the waiting room and sought out Milton, Julie, and Eddie, all whispering among themselves, occasionally throwing sympathetic glances at Kim.

"You've been here the whole time?" Grace raised her eyebrows, placing a hand on her hip and using the other hand to play with her scarf, crafted out of a dark blue material that contrasted with the light colors of the room and her pale, nearly translucent skin. Kim didn't miss the slight smirk that spread across the brunette's face as she tacked on, "Impressive."

Kim didn't even want to _know_ what Grace's mind was conjuring up right now—knowing Grace, it had a seventy-five percent chance of being dirty and perverted—and instead chose to throw a glance down at herself, still in her full soccer gear—jersey, shin guards, socks, and cleats.

"Yeah," Kim grumbled, pushing her sore body up into a sitting position. "I tried to get here as fast as I could after the game—and unfortunately, time didn't give me an opportunity to shower and eat like you guys…"

"Kat would have come," Jerry piped up, and here his eyebrows knitted together in slight confusion. "But she said she had to do something in private."

Kim waved it off, "Yeah, I know."

"How's Jack?" Grace questioned curiously, worry chasing away the smug edge to her voice and replacing it with one of concern. "What happened? I heard from Rudy that it wasn't too serious, but…"

Kim sighed wearily at the mention of the player. "He's fine. Doctors diagnosed it as dehydration, like we all thought…they should be releasing him in a few hours, once he wakes up. I guess I'll have to stay until he does."

"Well," Jerry changed the subject cheerfully, "these are Jack's clothes."

Taking no note of Kim's bewildered expression, Jerry offered Kim a plastic bag. Kim took a small peek inside and noticed dark jeans, a plaid t-shirt, and some of the trademark Vans Jack always seemed to wear.

"I'll give them to the nurse later," Jerry shrugged. "I thought Jack might want to get away from the hospital in clothes that aren't dirty and sweaty, right?"

Kim leaned back slowly. "Right."

"Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?" Grace offered, her manner unusually gentle. "There's a cafeteria somewhere here, and I've got some money."

The blonde smiled gratefully. "Could you do that? I've been here for a few hours now, I didn't get to eat dinner."

"Sure," Grace nodded with an innocent smile, before digging her nails into Jerry's forearm. Jerry cried out in pain and surprise, and Grace practically dragged him off to the cafeteria, muttering at him to_ man up _along the way.

Milton, Julie and Eddie now crossed over to Kim, the group of four forming a square. Though their manners seemed casual and light, there was a glint of fear, of worry in each of their eyes as they surrounded Kim.

"How's his condition?" Milton inquired, evidently bursting to know the news, the doctor side of him coming into full light.

Kim shrugged. "Not that serious, it's just dehydration. Apparently, he hasn't drunk anything since breakfast. The idiot didn't know to drink water on a freaking _hot_ day like this, something which surprises me, because he's from Texas. Isn't Dallas crazy hot?" As an afterthought, she added, "And didn't Jack play _select_ soccer?"

"Go easy on him," Eddie interjected. "Dehydration sucks, Kim. Don't get mad."

Kim had no intention of getting into another fight about Jack's current condition, no matter how much she could argue. She was sore all around and still in her soccer uniform, something that irked her. She was itching to change into clean, comfortable clothes and take a long, hot shower.

"Where's the rest of the team?" she changed the subject abruptly. "Only you guys came?"

"Everyone else wanted to come," Julie shrugged guiltily. "Rudy could only get permission for us to go, since we're the closest to Jack. Rudy stayed at school as well—he called the hospital got all the bills and insurance worked out. Jack should be free to leave when he wakes up."

Eddie crossed his arms suddenly, and Kim didn't miss the accusing edge in his tone as he demanded, "Have you even been in to see Jack yet?"

"I did, a while ago." Kim's voice was nonchalant as she continued, "Jack was sleeping. If you ask me, he should be fine by tomorrow. Maybe he'll have a killer headache tonight—nothing a few Tylenol won't fix up—but he seemed dandy to me."

She flashed back to about an hour ago, when the nurse had told her it was perfectly fine to see Jack, but that he was sleeping and needed rest. Privately, she was grateful for the fact that she didn't have to talk directly to him, and she'd just stared at his sleeping figure for a few moments—slightly messy brown hair, eyelids shut over chocolate-brown eyes.

Then she'd left.

The side door to the waiting room swung open again, and two familiar voices filled Kim's ears, arguing about something trivial. Grace and Jerry were bickering again, as usual, about a person they'd supposedly seen on their way back to the room from the cafeteria.

"Here," Grace whispered to Kim, passing the blonde a Styrofoam box before turning back to Jerry. Kim popped it open to reveal a large hamburger with a generous amount of fries on the side. Jerry produced something from behind his back—a white cup filled to the brim with Dr. Pepper (Kim was surprised he hadn't drank it all already)—and the pair continued to fight as Kim took a ravenous bite from the hamburger.

Kim did her best to block them out as she continued to eat, the hunger in her stomach now evidently painful as she swallowed the food, but shutting Grace and Jerry out was as impossible as hell.

"What are they even fighting about?" Kim heard Milton ask Julie.

Jerry's dark eyes were solemn, and he turned towards Milton and Julie with a somber expression. "Aliens, yo."

Everyone fixed him with dubious eyes, even Grace, who had been arguing with him.

"What the hell?" Grace recovered first. "We're not fighting about _aliens_ because, I repeat, that was _not_ an alien that you saw! What the _heck_, Jerry. Duh. It was totally a zombie. Aliens aren't real."

Jerry took on a defensive edge. "Yo, Grace, they're real! Total swag! This is some true chiz! They've sent us signs, you know!"

The teenagers sent disbelieving looks towards the goalie for another five seconds before returning to their respective conversations, acting as if nothing had happened.

It was Jerry, after all. The most random things came out of his mouth.

It was to be expected.

* * *

><p>Jack's eyes blinked open, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling, the details blurred by a mix of mint green and white.<p>

It reminded him faintly of spearmint candy, the kind that was swirled into small, hard, sweet round pieces. He smiled at the random connection before the warm feeling was chased away—by the utter confusion that filled his mind.

Where was he?

His brown eyes refocused on his surroundings. The room's walls were painted a pale green color, instantly reminding Jack of mint bubblegum that had been overchewed, and he winced at the comparison. The ceiling above him was a blank white, giving the room a sterile, orderly look. He strained his ears; the room was silent save for the small, muted beeping of a machine next to him. The air conditioner whirred softly above him, and he sank back onto the soft bed, the pillows giving way to the weight of his head.

Was he in…a hospital?

He smacked his lips thirstily, his mouth suddenly uncomfortably dry, and spent another few seconds clearing his vision before he reached out to the small table next to him, grabbing the pitcher full of ice water and pouring himself a glass, downing the cold liquid gratefully.

Why was he here?

The door swung open with a sudden bang, startling Jack so much that he nearly dropped the glass of water, the condensation running down the sides loosening his grip on the object. It slipped from his fingers before he threw out his other hand to catch the tricky object.

A nurse bustled in, clipboard in hand, giving Jack a small smile and commenting, "So you're finally awake, huh? It's been a few hours."

Jack read the nametag pinned on her shirt with a mild curiosity: CAROLINE. She was of average height, her dirty-blond hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

The strength in his muscles was weak, but he managed to push himself up as she hurried around his bed, checking the machines with practiced movements. "What happened?" Jack wondered out loud. "Why am I in a hospital?"

"Dehydration," Caroline tutted, her tone hinting at disapproval as her pen scratched across the paper, marking several notes in rapid succession. "You fainted during a soccer game, if I remember correctly. Didn't drink nearly enough water, and it was very hot out today. Record-breaking heat. By the way, what were you thinking?"

Jack shrugged uncomfortably. "Um…I didn't want to drink too much, I don't like the feeling of water in my stomach when I run. And I guess I'm too proud to ask for water."

It was faint at first, but the thought that he'd been hospitalized for something as juvenile as _dehydration_ now sent his cheeks flaming at a scorching burn. He could have stomached fainting because of illness, or an injury, or getting carted off to the hospital because of some dramatic soccer wound, but dehydration? Simply not drinking enough water due to his pride?

He was such an idiot.

Even a person that had never touched a soccer ball in his life would know that you _had_ to drink lots of water on a hot day—it was purely common sense. Jack Anderson had played soccer for almost all his life, and this was the reason for his most recent hospitalization?

_Dehydration?_

"Well, you didn't drink enough, because you ended up here," Caroline sighed, the clipboard falling to her side. "You're good to go, though, just take it easy for the night. A friend of yours brought you fresh clothes—Jerry, I think his name was?"

She gestured to a plastic bag sitting on the edge of the table, and Jack smiled. "Yeah, he's a nice guy."

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Maybe a little too nice—he kept trying to flirt with me. He muttered something in Spanish about preferring older women. Apparently, he didn't know that I took Spanish in high school."

"That's Jerry," Jack nodded with a fond laugh.

Caroline smiled. "Well, I'll leave the room so you can change. There's a teammate of yours waiting for you in the waiting room, by the way—a girl. I don't remember her name. Some of the team came by earlier, but your coach made them go back to the school about an hour ago."

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving Jack to haul himself off the bed and change into his regular clothes, the soft material comforting him slightly. He shoved his dirty soccer uniform into the plastic bag and stretched for a minute before exiting the room, padding down the hallway silently and signing out at the desk.

Jack pushed open the door to the waiting room, half expecting Grace or maybe even Julie to be waiting for him—

At the sound of his entrance, the only other figure in the room—a form dressed in a dark green uniform, long blonde hair pulled into a stern ponytail, and brown eyes as accusing as he'd ever seen them—stood up, as if she'd been smoothed apart by an origami artist.

_Kim?_

Jack took another long look at her, noting the small details—her uniform was slightly rumpled, as if she'd been sleeping, and her ponytail was disheveled and lilted slightly towards the right—Jack had the suspicion that she had been resting on it for a long time.

He also had the gut feeling that she hadn't even bothered to go back to the school after the game—she'd come straight to the hospital from the field complex.

But the bigger question was, _why?_

Kim's eyes flickered with an almost imperceptible trace of relief as she looked him up and down before simply saying, "If you want to catch the bus and not have to_ walk_ back to school, I think you should hurry."

The blonde spun on her heel and blew towards the automatic sliding doors of the hospital in an angry whirlwind, prompting Jack to chase after her, catch her at the exit, and turn her around to face him. While she looked furious, she made no move to escape—it was very likely that she was too exhausted to even bother.

"All right," Jack sighed. "Out with it. What did I do this time to piss off the great and almighty captain?"

She rolled her eyes, as if she couldn't believe his obvious incompetence. "Um, you got hospitalized. Is that good enough of an answer for you? Or would you rather me pull out something more life-threatening?"

"I'm fine," Jack shrugged. "A little tired, but I'm fine."

Kim threw her hands up, the picture of exasperation. "That's not why I'm angry!"

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Then please enlighten me as to why you are so mightily pissed at me."

His deprecating manner was obviously starting to set Kim off, and she wrung her hands, unable to release her frustration in any other way. "Because…because…damn you, Jack! You had me worried _sick_! Don't you _know_ you're supposed to drink _water_ during a hot game? What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you played _select_ before you came here? Don't they teach you to _drink water?_"

Whoa. He had not been expecting her to actually care about him. Of course, her hurried explanation was also a bit mean, but he chose to ignore that and bait her with a question of his own: "Why do you care so much? As far as I know, you hate me! You were getting all nice and then there was that night at the movies about a week ago and then you just completely shut me out—again! What is up with you? Why can't you give me a straight answer?"

"It doesn't matter if I hate you or not," Kim gritted her teeth, shocking Jack even more, stunning him into surprised silence and effectively cutting off his rant. "I'm the captain and you're my responsibility!"

Jack flung his hands out impatiently. "Well then, job well done! I'm just peachy!"

"That's the _point_!" Kim screamed back at him, her fury past the breaking point, punctuating every word as if it were a blow to a stomach—her_ own_ stomach, as if they were meant to hurt herself and not Jack. "You're not all 'peachy'! You're—you're—you ended up in a _hospital_, for heaven's sake! You freaking—you were—"

Then she did something so unexpected that even Jack, who had gotten very used to these types of arguments, didn't even see coming.

She hugged him. _Hard._

Well, it wasn't really so much of a hug as it was a tackle. She kind of leaped forward and wrapped her arms around him so tightly that all the air was squeezed out of him. There was nothing romantic about the gesture, but she was holding onto him so closely that Jack was convinced that the only reason she was doing this was to make sure he didn't disappear into thin air (or get carted off into an ambulance again).

Jack slowly raised his arms and placed them awkwardly on her upper back, waiting for her to be satisfied. She was shaking violently, and Jack was convinced that he'd really scared her.

_Who knew?_

He bit his lip, thinking about her past history with Ricky that had been recently reopened, and he mentally berated himself for getting hospitalized. No doubt that Kim would pin the blame all on herself and maybe Rudy (but mostly herself). Jack had no doubt that he'd been giving her all sorts of hell these past two weeks and guilt forced him to pat her back slowly.

Kim pulled back jerkily, swiping away a lock of blond hair that had fallen across her forehead. "I—I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know why I just did that."

Jack shrugged generously, trying to rub feeling back into his arms. "Must have been the emotions."

"Yeah, maybe." Kim accepted this excuse gratefully and proceeded to kick uncomfortably at the concrete. "We need to catch the bus—unless, of course, you would prefer to walk."

"I think I'll take the bus," Jack answered dryly, and the blonde almost laughed.

The pair were alone at the bus stop before she suddenly piped up, "Can you forget that? The hug?"

Her face was tinged pink, and he almost wanted to laugh. It was just a hug, right? No big deal. Strictly platonic. Jack was temporarily taken aback at her odd request, but he tried for a smile, adjusting the bag in his hands. "What hug? I don't know what you're talking about."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kim allow herself a small grin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Though I have never actually fainted during a game before, I _have_ gotten dehydrated. From what I've experienced, your mouth gets extremely dry, you are unable to swallow, you have this weird taste in your mouth, your vision starts to fade in and out, and you gain a massive headache.**

**Now we have a little insight into Jack's main plotline—make of it what you will—and there's the fact that so far, Eddie is the only one who knows even the tiniest detail about it.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I actually thought of this idea after I returned from a game dehydrated—this was not in my original plans. Neither was Jack's plot—I had to alter it from what I originally had.**

**Feel free to drop a review—just click that blue button right below. **

**Thanks!**


	9. Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, they made my week! Keep on reviewing, they encourage me to update faster and the constructive criticism included is really helpful.**

**Oh, and the recent Kickin' It episode "Capture The Flag" just proved another one of my theories that has to do with this story_—_Jack (and everyone else) would totally look hot in private school uniforms. Just saying. Jack in a sweater and tie_—don't even get me started._ Or else I might not stop.**

**I know the last chapter was a fast update and this one was also pretty fast considering my usual updates are slower. Since I've written quite a bit ahead updates might be quicker now, since I'm going on vacation for the whole upcoming summer of 2012. This chapter is dedicated to _TheOppositeOfOptimistic, _a fabulous writer. She reviewed on chapter seven asking for a bit more Kat/Kyle and Kat!backstory so I complied. Sienna, this chapter and the next chapter will have a bit more Kat—I hope you enjoy this!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p><em>"Aim for the sky and you'll reach the ceiling. Aim for the ceiling and you'll stay on the floor."<em>

…

_—Bill Shankly_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER NINE: Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind<strong>

Kim raised a hand and rapped on the wooden door. It was getting late, and most students were returning to their dorms to get started on the mass of homework always assigned on Thursday nights, but this was far more important. This situation required immediate attention and she had to be at the airport in less than an hour.

The strap of her small duffel bag, emptied of her soccer gear and filled to the zipper with her overnight things and a change of clothes, cut into her shoulder, digging into the flesh as she tapped her foot impatiently.

There were a few scuffling noises before Rudy's voice called out, "Just a minute!"

Kim rolled her eyes, despite her somber mood. "Rudy, it's me. And I _know_ you have a cat. There's no need to stuff Tip-Tip in the closet."

"Oh, okay."

At this, Kim pushed the door open and strolled in without further hesitation. She was very familiar with Rudy's office, as the two had a very close captain-coach relationship and she always seemed to seek him out for advice whenever she happened to need it. He was happy to comply and though some of his stories rambled on for forever and never seemed to end with a point, she enjoyed them all the same.

The room was dimly lit; only the desk lamp was switched on, and Kim had to suppress a smile at Rudy's forearms, which currently bore several scratches, undoubtedly from his recent scuffle with his cat.

The cuts reminded her of Kat's arm, though, and she her amused manner abruptly evaporated into thin air.

Rudy seemed to be working on something, but his attention perked up as soon as she entered the office and took a seat. "What's up, Kim?"

She considered the question thoughtfully, wondering how to phrase her answer correctly.

"I'm not going to be here for this weekend's game," Kim whispered. "On Saturday."

Rudy's head snapped up from where he was organizing the players' personal files, and he fixed her with a long, calculating stare before he completely dropped the files and folded his hands on his desk, the perfect picture of attention. "Tell me why."

"Do you want the real reason or the fake one?" Kim stalled nervously.

"Both," Rudy waved her guarded tone off carelessly. "Come on, Kim. If you're going to be skipping one whole game, you have to tell me why."

Kim breathed out shakily. "Right, okay. Well, the cover story is that I'm going to be in bed with a hundred-and-three degree fever. Only Grace and the principal know about this, and Mr. Wasabi is going to tell all the teachers so they won't get suspicious. Grace is just going to cover for me so no one else can get into my dorm room and see I'm not actually there with a high fever."

"Right, and what's the real reason?"

Kim squeezed her eyes shut, a slight wave of vertigo rippling through her before she blurted out, "My sister was hospitalized this morning."

Silence.

"Oh…" Rudy's voice was laced with genuine concern. "Courtney? Wow, that's serious, and I completely understand. I'll figure something out, run practices, cover for you. But why was she hospitalized?"

She twisted uncomfortably in her seat. "The doctors aren't sure…" Kim hedged carefully, her voice high-pitched. However, her lying skills were anything but adequate. If there was one thing she detested about her abilities, it was the _inability_ to tell even a single, tiny white lie—she simply couldn't do it, and Rudy knew that.

Rudy merely arched an eyebrow and waited patiently.

"…But they think she has anorexia," Kim finally divulged. "She was so thin, didn't have any food inside her…and my mom wants me back there at least for a day to see her and maybe cheer her up. I'll probably get back in the afternoon on Saturday, I'm spending tomorrow back in Tennessee and I'm leaving tonight. I don't think I'll be able to play in the game, though, so I thought I should warn you."

Rudy shook his head in sorrow, "I'm so sorry. Tell your sister I said hi and that I hope she gets better, okay? I'm sorry you have to deal with this now…among other things."

He didn't have to specify what "other things" he was implying but Kim already knew that he was referencing the Ricky "Fiasco" that had taken place last year, and she flushed scarlet. "I'm over that, Rudy. And again, I'm sorry for everything that happened."

Rudy waved it off casually, which deepened the guilt constricting Kim's chest. "Kim, I know you're genuinely sorry and I've forgiven you a hundred times. We all make mistakes and you're not perfect. However, I'm really worried about Courtney—and you. So make sure you keep your health up, okay? I know you've been working really hard during practices but don't overwork yourself. You need rest and relaxation as well."

Kim remembered suddenly that Rudy had used to coach her older sister, once upon a time—it explained why he was so concerned. Courtney was the perfect older daughter of the Crawford family and though Kim resented her sometimes for getting all the attention she was still worried nonetheless—they were family, after all.

"Thanks for understanding," Kim nodded as she stood up. "I have to go, I gotta catch the bus to the airport leaving in about ten minutes."

Rudy pushed his chair back and rose in tandem with her, smiling sympathetically. "Of course. Take it easy. Do you want me to pass on a message to the team? Words of encouragement for the game, notes, small tidbits of wisdom?"

"I'm not a fortune cookie," Kim shook her head, a slight smile appearing on her lips, before the two fell into an awkward silence.

Rudy waited expectantly for a real answer.

The note in her pocket seemed to be burning a hole through her jeans and finally she pulled it out, a piece of notebook paper with written instructions and diagrams she'd been hard-pressed to write down before leaving her dorm and saying her goodbyes to Grace. Kim had been trying to hurry and think up formations as fast as she could, as she wanted to leave enough time for her meeting with Rudy.

She now pulled out the sheet reluctantly, offering the folded paper to the soccer coach. "Don't tell any of the other players about this until gametime," she requested. "Please. It leaves instructions in there for the game and a captain in everything, because I'm probably not going to get back. Pretend Grace gave it to you because I was too sick to deliver it in person."

To his credit, Rudy didn't even hazard a sneaky glance at the paper, heeding her wishes. "Of course."

"Thanks," Kim nodded gratefully before checking her phone and shouldering her duffel bag. "I have to go now, or I'll miss my bus."

Rudy smiled and added, "Take all the time you need."

The one thing Kim had learned since arriving at Bobby Wasabi Private School was that she, in fact, _didn't_ have all the time in the world.

And that time couldn't fix everything.

However, she merely put on a brave face and turned around, coming to a stop at the office door before composing herself and her facial expression, trying to seem strong—for herself and for the rest of the world.

Kim opened the door and left, closing it behind her with finality.

* * *

><p>Kat stared straight ahead, refusing to let a single emotion appear on her face. Her dark eyes focused instead on a pink wad of chewed gum stuck unceremoniously on the opposite wall, and her eyebrows drew together in slight disgust.<p>

"I can't believe you."

Kat's head immediately snapped to the side, her piercing eyes seeking out the source of the voice—a very, _very _familiar figure turning the corner of the hall right next to her. His dark brown hair was slightly messy, as if he'd run here in a hurry, his dark green blazer slung over his shoulder haphazardly.

Her voice was neutral, cold. "Believe it."

Kyle plopped down next to her on the bench outside of the principal's office, examining her with his intense blue gaze. Refusing to acknowledge the fact that she felt uncomfortable under his penetrating stare—though not for the most obvious reason one might think—she merely tilted her head just a centimeter higher and continued to stare forward.

"Why on _earth_ did you punch Randy Hale in the face?" Kyle demanded after another second of silence. "Are you _crazy_?"

"No," Kat's voice took on a sharper edge. "You know me, Kyle."

"Exactly," Kyle enunciated slowly, deliberately, as if she were a misbehaving child and he the adult. "And I know that you don't just punch guys in the face for no reason. You may have PMS the entire month instead of just a few days—"

A corner of Kat's mouth twitched up in the tiniest hint of a grin.

"—But you do _not_ just punch guys in the face, not even if they're assholes like Randy. So, explain," Kyle finished, a triumphant look on his face.

The slight hint of Kat's smile disappeared instantly, and she kept her face stoic, her tone giving away nothing as she replied, "Randy was pissing me off."

"You sent him to the nurse with a bruise covering half his face," Kyle rolled his eyes. "Not that I'm complaining, but I think he did a bit more than just _piss you off._ What's going on?"

Something in Kat's gaze faltered, but she turned away from him and back to the wall. "He accused me of cutting myself."

If she'd bothered to look at Kyle's face, she would have noticed a brief flash of pain cross it—but she was still staring determinedly at the wall, as if it held answers and time would reveal them all. Kyle shut his eyes before breathing out, almost inaudibly, "Are you?"

Kat inhaled sharply, a sudden intake of air that sent oxygen whistling down her throat, expanding her lungs just a little too much. She thought he'd dropped the topic during the night at the movies, and here it was again, come back to bite her in the ass because she hadn't killed the rumor when it had been fresh. "That's none of your business."

"Of course it is!" Kyle's voice was taking on an angry edge now, and he pressed on, "Kat, you and I are _best friends_—if you're hurting yourself, I need to stop you."

She thought back to the scars on her arm, and her eyelids fluttered closed impatiently as she snapped back, "No, you _don't_!"

"So you admit that you're cutting yourself!"

"I did no such thing."

Pause.

"Can…" Kat struggled to compose her face again. "Can we please just talk about something else?"

Kyle was quiet for a long moment before his hand tentatively reached out and brushed some of her hair back from her shoulders, sending electricity tingling up her spine. "When did you cut your hair?"

Her fingers reached up as well, accidentally bumping into Kyle's before he removed his hand from her shoulder. She tugged on a lock of the dark hair, shrugging. "This morning, in my dorm bathroom. Emma helped me cut it off, I didn't feel like waiting for the weekend. It's just hair, anyway."

"It's what, four inches shorter?"

Kat thought back to how much hair had been in the trash can when she'd left for school. Her long, glossy hair had originally cascaded down to the middle of her back but now it had been chopped shorter—shorter than she'd been accustomed to, anyway. Her roommate, Emma, had done a pretty decent job of cutting in a straight line, and it was good enough for Kat; it was even and straight. "Something like that. Now that I think about it, it looks horrid."

"I don't know," Kyle smirked, his blue eyes catching the light and sparkling at her for just a fraction of a second. "It makes you look…older. I think it's very—"

"Katerina Chen?"

The principal's office door swung open, and Mr. Wasabi's assistant stepped out, an iPhone in one hand and a clipboard gripped in the other.

"Yeah?" Kat answered, her voice and expression stoic once more. "What's the verdict?"

Mrs. Turner glanced down at her clipboard. "After careful consideration, Mr. Wasabi has reviewed your current situation and concluded that you were goaded and aggravated into doing what you did. However, this cannot go unpunished."

Kat's right eyebrow rose dangerously. "…Oh?"

"Yes," she nodded, businesslike. "You will serve detention for an entire day with Mrs. Whelan."

Kat wasn't concerned—it wasn't her first time getting detention, although she abstained from receiving them too often. "When?"

"This Saturday."

Kat's mouth dropped open. "I—"

An outraged expression appeared on Kyle's face, and before Kat could stop him, he'd stood up. "Mrs. Turner, there's a soccer game this Saturday! Kat has an obligation to the team!"

"Well, maybe she should have considered that before taking physical action against another student," Mrs. Turner returned crisply. "Very well, Miss Chen, you are free to go."

Kat swung her book bag onto her shoulder and started down the hall, fury beginning its familiar burn through her veins. Out of all the days she could have gotten detention in an entire week, Mr. Wasabi had to put it on a _Saturday_? The day of all the soccer games? Soccer was one of the only damn things she looked forward to at this school anymore, and now—

"Hey, hey!" Kyle placed a hand on her shoulder, slowing his jog to match her hurried pace. "Don't feel bad, it's just one game."

Kat fixed him with a sardonic stare. "Don't feel bad? _Don't feel bad_?"

Kyle nodded slowly.

Kat snorted, turning away. "It's too late for that."

* * *

><p>"She's <em>sick<em>?" Jack repeated incredulously.

Grace threw up her hands, projecting the perfect picture of concern mixed with exasperation. "Yeah, she's in bed with a high fever. No one's allowed to see her."

Lying was one of the many things that came naturally to Grace West, though she usually never used it for selfish reasons. Grace balanced the ball between her feet as she and Jack stood at the edge of the goal, waiting for their turns to run sprints down the field.

Grace felt the most guilty lying to Jack out of all the players on the team—probably because while Jack was not just the new player, he had this…altruistic aura around him that he probably didn't even know he possessed, and he probably valued honesty above several other personality traits. Plus, Jack was still oblivious to the biggest secret the team held, mainly revolving around Kim—and Jerry.

"Well, that's great," Grace heard Jack mutter sarcastically to himself. She caught his next words, "Kat is already banned from playing in the next game because she blew her top and _punched _someone and landed herself in detention—"

"I thought it was pretty badass of her," Grace commented offhandedly, before holding her hands up in surrender to Jack's skeptical, narrowed glance. "But yeah, she needs to calm her temper down a little bit before she ends up getting kicked off the team completely."

Jack nodded in agreement before suddenly asking, "Is Kim going to be at tomorrow's game?"

"Are you kidding me?" Grace snorted incredulously. "Jack, she's in bed. As in, sick with a fever over one hundred degrees! She won't be able to play! She might make it to the game at the end to watch but she's not in playing condition."

A wave of guilt crashed inside of her again as she took note of Jack's slightly disappointed expression before it was the aforementioned brunet's turn to start his sprint. Jack took off down the field, dribbling the ball expertly between his feet and effectively cutting off their conversation.

Rudy was running practices today and Grace was thankful that no one else had noticed the secretive glance they'd exchanged at the beginning of the practice, as if Rudy was verifying that Grace really did know the real truth about Kim's absence today and vice versa. Grace was fully aware of the fact that she had to play her part, and convincingly too—only Rudy and the other teachers of the school knew the reason why Kim had suddenly disappeared from the student eye and Grace had been careful to keep her dorm room locked and she refrained from letting anyone inside.

Jack jogged up back to her from his sprint, his breathing slightly hitched, and Grace shot off like a rocket, zooming down the field, dribbling the ball easily, the movements now coming naturally to her. She took a shot at Jerry at the other end of the field, who was in the goal—of course—but her mind must have been elsewhere today, because he caught her soccer ball quite easily.

"Wow, Grace," Jerry teased as he tossed the ball back to her with a wink. "You're a little off today, aren't you?"

"Shut it, Martinez," Grace returned as she finally allowed herself to giggle and struggled to hold back the blush that had appeared at his teasing and intense gaze. "I'd like to see you do better."

Before Jerry could reply, Julie had taken a shot at the goal and Grace took it as her cue to dribble back down the field. The sprint back was filled with slight disappointment and confusion; butterflies seemed to have begun to flutter around in her stomach for no apparent reason.

As soon as she crossed the line and Kelsey had started her sprint, Jack once again roped her into a conversation. "How _is_ Kim doing?"

"Uh…" Grace grasped at random excuses in her mind in a panic, as Jack's genuine brown eyes were waiting for an answer. "She's sweating. A lot. High fever, headache, you know? And it doesn't help that she's, um, on…her…uh…period?"

The words achieved the desired effect she'd been hoping to produce: Jack's brown eyes had widened in slight alarm, and though she had to give him credit for not turning red she didn't miss his suddenly awkward expression. "Oh…"

"Yeah," Grace pressed forward eagerly, satisfied with her newfound excuse. "She's on her period, and don't tell her I told you this or she'll kill me, but all the cramps and stuff are making her—"

Jack looked highly uncomfortable. "Yeah, I get it."

He turned away jerkily, as if recovering from a blow Grace had just dealt. Inwardly, Grace praised herself for her cleverness. Jack probably wouldn't prod about Kim's current health state any further, for which Grace was glad—because she really had nothing to deliver.

The period excuse worked for everything.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe she's <em>sick,<em>" Jack emphasized yet again.

Jerry tossed an unconcerned glance at Jack, while Milton and Eddie watched eagerly. "Dude, chillax. It's just a fever. A high one, but know, just a fever. It's not like she's gonna die or anything."

The four teammates were inside Jerry and Jack's spacious dorm room, contemplating tomorrow's game with a war-like mindset. One of their key defenders—Kat—had gotten herself _detention_, and now their main leader, their _captain,_ was gone.

"You seem worried," Eddie observed as Jack continued to pace back and forth. "Mind telling us why?"

"He's worried about Kim, obviously," Milton supplied primly before Jack could offer up an explanation. "And the fact that she has a really high fever."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I know _that._ What I want to know is _why_ he's so worried. Sure, we're all worried about Kim—she's our captain. But it's only a fever, even if it is a high one. I have a feeling that if it were me or you with the fever," Eddie nodded at Milton, "he wouldn't be pacing back and forth, looking like he needs to pee his pants."

Jerry flicked glances between the other three teenagers before stating, "I'm confused."

Jack ignored him as he turned to answer Eddie's question. "I would too be equally worried! I'm just…a little suspicious, is all. Grace seemed a little off when she told me that Kim had a really high fever at practice and when I tried to visit Kim after dinner to just see how she was doing, Grace wouldn't let me in."

"So, that's normal," Milton pointed out. "Kim probably doesn't want to get anyone else sick."

"But…" Jack could tell that he was losing any point of view he might have gotten the others to see. "She's…_sick!_ I know she doesn't have pneumonia or something serious like that but I'm surprised that you guys aren't more concerned about her. She's your best friend, and you're sitting here like she just needs to have a cough drop and some Tylenol and then she'll be fine."

Milton shrugged as Jack whipped around again, striding to the other wall in his determined pacing. "Maybe you're just _too_ worried."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack stopped completely in his tracks and sank down onto his bed next to Eddie.

"Well," Milton reasoned. "You're right, none of us are that worried about Kim—mainly because we know that while it's bad, sickness _is_ a normal thing. You seem to be overreacting, which leads me to think that this doesn't just stem from your worry about Kim's health."

Jack paused, "You lost me there. Mind speaking English?"

"Hold up," Eddie raised a hand. "I speak fluent Milton-language. What he means to say is that he thinks you like Kim."

Jack appraised Milton with questioning eyes and when the intelligent midfielder didn't make any move to deny the claims, Jack finally accepted that Eddie did, in fact, work as an accurate translator.

"Of course I like Kim," Jack shrugged it off. "She's the captain, isn't she?"

"As more than a friend," Eddie hinted slowly.

Jack considered the words for a few seconds before shaking his head vehemently, refusing to let any incriminating emotion show on his face. "Nope, no way. I don't like her _like that_—and I can't believe you guys would think about something at a time like this! When she's _sick_!"

"Yep, he totally likes her," Milton nodded to Eddie knowingly.

Jack didn't miss the slightly worried glance Eddie was giving him, and Jack suspected that it wasn't just because of the fact that Jack was obsessing over Kim's high fever—Eddie still remembered the phone conversation that he'd eavesdropped on last week. Jack had completely forgiven him for listening in the first place, because Eddie's curiosity had simply taken over during those few minutes—but it still didn't change the fact that he feared that Eddie knew his one biggest secret.

"I don't like Kim like that," Jack said with conviction. "Now can we please talk about something else?"

Milton raised an eyebrow, and Jack steeled himself for something smart to come popping out of his mouth. "You were so eager to debate over Kim's slightly suspicious fever just about three minutes ago and now you're begging _us_ to change the situation? Sounds like someone has something to hide…" Milton smirked, confident with the knowledge that he had Jack pinned down.

"Jack loves Kim?" Jerry raised his head from his pillow sleepily. It appeared that the Latino goalie had been taking a short nap of sorts while the other three were conversing about Kim.

Jack shook his head hurriedly at the same time Milton and Eddie nodded theirs, with identical grins on their faces.

"Okay, cool," Jerry mumbled before dropping his head back onto his pillow. "Just don't let the penguins bite me, okay? Oh-kay…swagalicious, yo…"

Milton, Jack, and Eddie traded confused glances with each other before simply shaking their heads and continuing on with their conversation.

* * *

><p>The day of the game dawned bright and sunny, though it was nowhere near as hot as their last game had been; in fact, a cold front seemed to have blown in, twisting the air so it seemed like a blustery fall day. Jack had chosen to put the dehydration episodefiasco out of his mind and instead focused on this game and making his plays better and more accurate.

It was now early afternoon, about two o'clock, and they were due to start at two thirty. Everyone had an edgy look to them, and even Jack felt the same way the team did—nervous, now that they were missing two very talented players. Jack had heard nothing exceptional about the team they were facing but he'd lost a game or two in his past experience by underestimating his opponents due to his arrogance.

Needless to say, he'd learned from that.

Jerry's usual sparkle was toned way down as he threw the ball to himself, strapping on his goalie gloves in the process, catching the soccer ball every single time. "First Kim has a fever, and now Kat has detention. We're totally screwed…"

Jack chanced a glance at Rudy and noticed that the coach was rummaging through his large bag of soccer equipment before finally freeing a slightly crumpled, folded sheet of paper.

"Hey, guys," Rudy called out, and the team gathered in their usual huddle, a circle surrounding the coach. "Before I left, I managed to get this note from Kim about this game. Unfortunately, she's still sick but she said she'd try to make it to the end of the game."

Rudy held the note out and Jack made a grab for it, the rest of the team pressing closer to him in attempts to catch sight of the message.

Jack never seen Kim's handwriting before but it was round and large. He was surprised to see that she dotted some of her letters with hearts—yes, _hearts_—but then, he remembered that she wasn't just a soccer captain, she was a regular teenage girl. *****

_Sorry I can't be here for the game today—I really am sick. You all will do great, I know it. This is one of the most cliché things I've ever said, but I think it fits this situation—believe in yourselves and you'll do great. Here's a plan for the first half, if you all need inspiration and a rough estimate of where to put everyone:_

Below that, she'd drawn up a rough diagram of what players she thought would be helpful in starting the game. Jack skimmed right over the diagram, not even bothering to seek out his name as he was interesting in seeing what other words she'd written.

_I'll try my hardest to get recover before the end of the game so I can see you guys play at least a little bit, even if I won't be able to be in the game myself. _

_Oh, before I forget,_ she'd scribbled, the words becoming hastier and hastier as they neared the end of the page, losing their slightly girly edge. _I'm assigning a replacement captain for this game. He'll be able to make changes, do what he thinks is right. Once I tell you who it is, you may be surprised—and so am I, for making this decision, but…I have a feeling he'll be good enough. _

_C for this game: Jack Anderson_

_I'm sure he'll be very helpful. Good luck, guys! _

—_Kim_

Jack's mouth formed a perfectly rounded O as he finished reading the note and he stumbled back slightly in shock, nearly toppling into Julie, who moved out of his way just in time.

_He was captain?_

Jerry had completed his examination of the paper before Jack—that was actually the fastest Jack had ever seen him read—and he clapped him on the back in obvious congratulation and delight. "Replacement captain, Jack!" Jerry crowed, evidently cheerful, gaining some of his old happiness back. "Guess the ice queen does have some warmth in her, right?"

"Kim hates me," Jack pointed out, his tone sharper than he had intended it to be, surprise rubbing his voice raw. He managed to utter a small cough before continuing, "Why would she assign me as captain?"

Eddie joined the conversation, retying his cleats as he added in thoughtfully, "Maybe she's had a change of heart. Or maybe it's just a test, right? Anyway, she's never assigned a replacement captain before—are you really going to turn this opportunity down?"

By now, the white paper had circulated throughout the whole team, and Jack was met with several expectant glances. Milton, Jerry, and Eddie—hell, _everyone_ was smiling at him encouragingly.

"Well?" Milton prodded.

Jack shrugged uneasily. It wasn't that he didn't have the _experience—_he was practically lousy with experience. He had been the team-appointed captain of his old select team. He was familiar with assigning people positions, taking people out, substituting people in the game. However, it had been a long time since he'd actually played the almighty role of captain, and still wasn't completely familiar with everyone's playing styles and fortes.

But hey, he was Jack Goddamn Anderson. He didn't back down from a challenge, regardless of how great it was.

Jack nodded at Rudy's questioning expression. "I'll do it."

Most of the teammates cheered supportively, and Jack managed a tight smile at all of them before glancing down at the formations she'd drawn up, checking to see if he had to make any changes.

His eyebrows drew together in slight confusion as his eyes roved over the line of defenders, written in Kim's feminine hand. Kim had placed Kat in her usual place, a defender, which struck Jack as odd—hadn't Kim heard that Kat had been banned from playing this game just on Thursday night? Shouldn't she have made corrections?

Weird.

It was possible that it could have just slipped Kim's mind, but Jack couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about this. Kim didn't _make_ mistakes, not when it came to soccer.

However, he chose to brush it off. There were more important things to be worrying about and the newly acquired pressure of being assigned captain tugged at his mind, begging to be heard. Jack borrowed a pen from Rudy and made minor adjustments to the lineup before presenting it to the coach.

Rudy nodded agreeably, "Good plan."

Jack finally allowed himself a grin, the familiar rush of power that came with being captain stealing through his veins again. It had been a while since he'd assumed the position of leading a soccer team but he had _not _forgotten how to do it.

He clapped his hands sharply, and everyone else quieted down.

"Right, so here's how we're going to start off the game…"

* * *

><p>Kim sank back against the soft seat, the humming engine of the airplane blending into the background as she allowed herself to relax for the slightest fraction of a second.<p>

"Can I take your cup?"

Kim's eyes opened at once and she looked up into the face of one of the flight attendants, pushing a cart now filled with empty plastic cups that had previously held beverages.

"Sure."

After the flight attendant had taken her cup with a smile, Kim leaned back again, pulling out her phone and checking the time. The Wasabi Warriors were no doubt starting their game now, if they hadn't already begun. Kim's flight was landing shortly but she knew firsthand how long it took to pass through the terminals and find her way out of an airport.

Then, of course, there was the actual issue of _getting_ to the field complex.

Her visit back home to Tennessee for all of one day had been…interesting. The entire time, she hadn't been able to stop worrying about the choices she'd made for the lineup and whether assigning Jack to captain had been a wise decision. She remembered Rudy mentioning something about how Jack had previously held the role of captain on his old select soccer team, and that was what had finally convinced her to let him take her position.

She just hoped it was going well.

Kim struggled to prevent different pictures from flashing in her mind—snapshots of her sister, lying in the hospital bed, as thin as all get-out and so, so pale. Kim had been trying in vain for several hours to erase those horrible images but they were burned into her brain, there to haunt her for the rest of her life.

_Why? _That was the only question Kim had asked herself since seeing her sister early Friday morning for the first time. She couldn't fathom a single reason why Courtney would have been so insecure as to starve herself to lose weight. Courtney was already thin and in a perfectly healthy weight range—why limit herself to one apple slice and three saltines a day and burn all of that already minimal energy on a treadmill, for hours at a time?

Courtney had seemed to cheer up upon seeing Kim next to her in the hospital and they'd just chatted for a while, Kim's parents leaving Courtney under Kim's care while they went out and grabbed breakfast. Kim had reluctantly confessed to her older sister about what had been happening on the soccer team—from the fact that one of her teammates might be cutting to potential budding romances to the new kid that had shown up, with loads of talent practically rolling off of him in waves.

After Kim had described Jack to Courtney, the latter had winked and said, "Oh, he sounds like a hottie. Is he cute?"

Kim had immediately turned red.

"I bet he is…"

At Courtney's knowing smirk, Kim had chosen to merely pull out her phone and proceeded to open up Jack's Instagram profile, and Courtney's grin had grown even wider, the latter seeming completely like her old self again, despite the pale, stretched skin and the bags under her eyes. "Yep, he's cute. Get him if you can."

At that point, Kim's parents had returned and a) blushing too hard to act normal and b) unwilling to engage in another fight with her mother, Kim had simply walked out to go get a drink from the cafeteria.

The rest of the day had passed by agonizingly slow, and after explaining to Courtney that she couldn't afford to take anymore time off of school, Kim had spent the night in her old house before waking up, visiting her sister one last time, and heading to the airport.

Alone, of course.

"We will be landing in San Jose shortly. Please buckle your seatbelts, right your seats in their original position, and put your tray tables up. Thank you for flying with us."

Kim snapped her tray table back and braced herself, leaning back as the plane started to pitch forward.

_Time to go back to school._

Kim didn't think those words had ever been so appealing.

* * *

><p>"Come on, guys," Jack gritted his teeth. "We can do this."<p>

Grace and Kyle—whom he'd moved up to play as forward—watched him with serious gazes, determination hardening their eyes.

Jack couldn't deny the desperation that was now starting to take a hold of him. There was about ten minutes left in the second half and that was enough to get _one more goal_ in. The score was tied 1-1—Jack had scored the first goal—and Jack was _not_ going to leave from this game with anything else but a win.

Not even a tie would satisfy him.

Plus, he felt that he had the need to prove himself to the entire team—not just Rudy or Kim. Jack Anderson _knew_ how to be a damn good captain, and coming out with a win would just help his case even further.

What infuriated him the most was that the other team wasn't even much of a challenge—their defense was extremely sloppy—but the Wasabi Warriors seemed to lacking their usual fire today, what with two players missing and a sudden, new change in leadership.

_Focus,_ Jack reprimanded himself.

_Oh, and win,_ he added as an afterthought.

Tensing up, Jack received the ball easily, a long pass that had come up from their defense, and almost immediately Jack, Grace and Kyle spread out, splitting into three different branches and thoroughly confusing the other team.

Good.

Jack took it a few feet before stepping back and sending it flying across the field, soaring above Kyle's head crossing it over to Grace. Jack continued to push up the field, edging closer to the goal as he watched Grace receive the ball—

Out of desperation, the midfielder on the other team practically tackled Grace, slamming into her slight figure and knocking her over, her back now flattened against the grass. However dirty that trick might have been, Jack had to admit that it had achieved the opposing team's desired effect—the midfielder passed it all the way up to their forwards, who immediately began pressing forward with it.

Jack was torn between helping the defense and checking to see if Grace was okay—the brunette was still lying on the ground, though struggling to get up. As Jack watched, Grace slowly straightened up, nodded at the referee next to her, and continued to jog with a slightly pained expression on her face.

Jack cursed under his breath as he finally pulled his eyes away from Grace and realized that the other team had somehow managed to make it past the Wasabi Warriors' defense and shoot the ball—only Jerry's excellent goalie skills stopped the score from becoming 2-1.

Thank god for Jerry.

The little clock inside Jack's head continued to tick down, and he estimated that they had about five minutes left before the game ended completely.

And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he noted that Kim had still not come to the game yet.

Jerry's punt landed somewhere in the midfield, where Milton dived for it, overshot it a little, and sent it flying out of bounds, much to the other team's delight.

_Damn._ The faster they scored the goal the better, and though Jack didn't blame Milton in the slightest for accidentally kicking it out, even Jack had to admit that they were running on limited time—and time in this game right now was everything.

The other team threw it in, a long pass that landed right in front of Eddie, who bounced it off his chest before winding back and aiming it straight to Kyle. Spurred into action, Jack jogged quickly to Kyle's right and waited in case the center forward needed someone to pass it off to—Kyle was charging straight up the middle of the field and defenders were beginning to swarm him.

Jack noticed that Kyle did perfectly fine. The forward's blue eyes were manic with a sort of adrenaline Jack had seen in his fellow teammates before and Jack was suddenly glad that Kyle was finally get his chance to shine.

"_Shoot!_" Jack screamed, a minute later, after Kyle had neared the goal enough to take a good shot. Kyle complied, and Jack watched, as it seemed to be soaring in—

The goalie lunged for it and while the goalkeeper didn't catch it fully, he tipped it sideways and out of bounds.

Corner kick.

Jack swore under his breath, taking care not to be heard by the referee four feet from him, and was thankful for the fact that he didn't even have to tell Grace what to do. The brunette had already grabbed the ball from behind the goal and sprinted toward the corner, fully aware that their time was running out and if they didn't make a goal, _quick,_ this game would end in a very unsatisfying tie.

And Jack Anderson did _not_ accept _ties._

_1-1, 1-1, 1-1…_

The score repeated over and over again in his head, a very _annoying_ mantra, as he positioned himself slightly to the side, edging farther from the goal and into a small space where there were no defenders pressing in on him. He watched as Grace took several large steps back, took the referee's nod as confirmation, and bounded forward, crossing it high—

Jack dived to the side and received the ball, controlling the pass with his feet while his head snapped up, frantically searching for any potential threats in his immediate area.

An openmouthed Kyle, right at the edge of the goal, calling for the ball—

_No time._

Three defenders, in three different directions, all starting to rush him at once, as if they were robots and their controller had set them to _KILL _mode.

He needed to shoot—_now!_

Jack took a deep breath.

Steeled himself.

Shut his eyes for a fraction of a second.

Prayed to whatever god or deity there was in the universe.

And _kicked it,_ as hard as he could.

* * *

><p>Maybe later, Jack would remember that the whole time, Rudy had been screaming his head off at him, or that the crowd was cheering so loudly that it had hurt his eardrums.<p>

It was quite possible that he would recall Grace practically screeching in victory, regardless of the disheveled state of her once-perfect ponytail and her usual, glamorous demeanor, before the brunette had sprinted all the way back to the other end of the field and practically tackled Jerry in a hug.

The next few minutes after the ball had swished into the net had passed in a sort of numbing daze.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that the whole team had swarmed him, right next to the other goal, and they'd jumped up and down for at least half a minute in sweaty victory. Rudy had eventually just moved the team huddle from the bench to the center of the field, and made a short speech containing congratulatory words, but Jack had barely registered them. He remembered something about Rudy praising him on being a good captain for this game, and Jack had just nodded slightly.

Jack had been pretty much ready to start leading the team to the bus when he realized that he still hadn't picked up the ball from the net, where it had lain, forgotten, these past few minutes. The game ball was their school's and they couldn't just forget it.

He jogged slowly back to the goal, acknowledging congratulatory shouts from his classmates that had come to see the game, and crouched down to pick it up.

Something inside him, an instinct, made him look up.

A very, _very_ familiar blonde was standing above him, on the other side of the net, just a few feet away, merely staring down at him. Jack couldn't believe he'd missed her in the first place. Her eyes weren't intimidating, or antagonistic, or calculating—they were simply trained on him and focused on his face, as if she was pondering what to say.

She had her soccer bag slung over her shoulder and looked as if she were exhausted, but that didn't lessen the intensity of her gaze as Jack stood up slowly to meet her, the game ball forgotten, his nerves acting up once again.

Jack had no doubt that she'd seen the goal he'd made.

Kim smiled—an actual, genuine grin, before dropping her eyes down to the ball still stuck in the net with a slightly curious expression.

"I might get tired of saying this…but nice goal."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I usually hate putting little notes or numbers in the actual chapter because it ruins the flow of the story but I starred one sentence above, and it was during the explanation of Kim's handwriting. I want to point out that her handwriting is really like this, as shown in the episode "Reality Fights". I analyzed all their handwritings during the 'introductions' to the reality show (because I'm obsessed like that) and I thought the styles fit each character's personality quite well. I also noticed that my own handwriting is most similar to Jack's—just a random fact about me.**

**I'd like to explain a bit more about Kim's character in this particular story, as I've gotten some reviews interested as to why I've made her a bit OOC. The Kimberly Crawford we know on the show is sarcastic and feisty, but even I don't think she's as cold as she is in this story. Keep in mind that PlayingToWin!Kim also has a backstory revolving around Ricky and the rest of the Black Dragons that has shaped her character into what she is now. I assure you that she will change a little later on, but her trust in anyone, not just Jack, has been a little...broken, to put it simply. **

**Anyway, I hope that cleared up some confusion about Kim's character in this story and I hope her mean demeanor is not hurting your interest in "Playing To Win". **

**Review, please!**


	10. At War With The World

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. To the very kind reviewer who requested less angst-y issues—these past few chapters were honestly just the tip of the iceberg. Every single character in this story has problems they're dealing with and I'm sorry if it depresses you. It works for me, in a way, to let my negative energy out into writing. **

**I have indeed changed my penname again—yes, I know, you're all sick of my indecision, but this time it's to pay tribute to my favorite show of all time that has just gotten cancelled after one season: "AWAKE", starring Jason Isaacs. I'm really going to miss watching that show and I'm extremely angry at NBC for cancelling it.**

**Anyway, it's been a bit since the last chapter so without further ado, here's chapter ten of "Playing To Win"!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p>"<em>By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail."<em>

…

—_Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER TEN: At War With The World<strong>

Victory after victory was scrawled on the board, in slightly distracted handwriting.

Not a single loss, not even a single tie. Five games into the season, and they hadn't lost once.

Though Grace was exhausted from their recent game, she had to admit that adding their most recent victory to the board would result in a _lot_ of satisfaction. Her alert eyes traced over the scores that were recorded with deliberate precision, soaking in every memory of victory she remembered from the games: _3-2, 2-0, 2-1, 4-1, 5-0…_

Her heart sank as her eyes traveled down the board and she realized that their next game was against the Seaford Black Dragons.

The little black-and-red dragon was taped to the board defiantly, next to the two intertwined _W_s that symbolized the Wasabi Warriors. Each school played all the other schools at least twice in the same season. The team that came out on top at the end of the season advanced to the state playoffs, and so far each year it had been the Black Dragons that had gotten that opportunity.

Grace's heart dropped even further when she located the second game against the Black Dragons—the very last game of the season, where the most pressure was concentrated.

Oh, this was going to be complete hell. Grace was actually surprised her best friend—who took her position as captain _very_ seriously—hadn't started running practices longer and longer while their first game against the Black Dragons was in plain sight, next weekend, seven days away. It was crucial that they beat the Black Dragons in this game and that they didn't lose a single game this entire season. They'd vowed that this year was going to be the year they made it to the state playoffs, and Grace had never broken a promise to Kim.

"She's going to go crazy," a voice commented from behind her.

Grace started and turned around; she hadn't seen the goalie walk up behind her and this in itself was very puzzling, as Jerry wasn't known for his stealth.

Maybe she'd just been preoccupied.

"Yeah," Grace nodded in agreement, trying to control her body temperature—the room seemed to have grown hotter and strangely airless. She shifted, "Kim is going to give us complete hell this week. Prepare for the next world war…"

Jerry looked slightly confused, "Which world war is the next one?"

"I'm guessing…World War III?" Grace gave him a perplexed look, shaking her head fondly at his constant state of confusion. "Don't worry about it, Jerry. I think an actual world war is a long way off from here."

Despite her words, she couldn't stop herself from turning back to stare at the board.

"Then you don't know Kim," Jerry laughed, though it sounded strained. "Maybe we should arm ourselves with carrot guns or something."

Grace paused and took a closer look at Jerry. The goalie's relaxed expression looked as if it had been forced upon his face, as if it were merely a mask that looked very close to crumbling to pieces. The mention of carrot guns had done nothing to ease the palpable tension between the two that hung in the air like a curtain.

"Are you okay?" The question flew from her lips, sharper and quicker than she had intended for it to be; she could already see that it had caught Jerry by surprise.

"Me? Fine," Jerry waved it off. "Just…nervous about the game, you know?"

Grace searched his dark eyes for something to clue her in as to why he his voice was suddenly strained. She thought back to the little dragon taped on the board and the implication of the challenges of their next game.

Oh.

However, she didn't really ask about the game—well, not really. "Are you worried about the Ricky…Thing?"

Jerry stalled uncomfortably, "I thought Kim named it the Ricky Fiasco. Whatever a fiasco is."

"We've called it many things," Grace rolled her eyes. "The Ricky Fiasco, The Ricky Thing, The Ricky Disaster…Kim doesn't like to talk about it, you know that. Usually the word _fiasco_ comes to mind first."

Jerry shrugged generously, thankful that the attention had been diverted from him—for now. "Yeah, well, I don't blame her. I don't like talking about it either."

Grace bit her lip. "…Are you still having those nightmares?"

Jerry's face paled noticeably, but he passed it off as a sort of theatrical gesture and shook his head. "No, not really. I've had maybe one or two since school started like, two months ago."

"Has Jack noticed yet?"

Grace knew she was edging into tentative territory in terms of Jerry's personal problems but she couldn't help herself—she was curious and she was also concerned.

"No." Jerry's voice was firm and just the tiniest bit apprehensive as he continued, "I've only had one these past few weeks and I managed to stuff a pillow in front of my face. I didn't wake Jack up."

Grace leaned closer to Jerry, so close she could feel his breath on her face, and after a few seconds, whispered, "Are you sure nothing else is bothering you?"

"Grace, you worry too much, yo," Jerry brushed it off dismissively. "I'm fine."

The brunette had her doubts, but if Jerry was keeping something from her, then it must be a secret worth hiding in the dark; Jerry had told her nearly everything after they had begun to hang out more frequently, and she wondered what his current problem was. She was tempted to ask but also afraid of pressing too deeply into his private, personal business.

"Do you want to go into town or something?" Jerry offered quietly after a few moments. "The game finished early today, it's still Saturday. Maybe we can go to Starbucks?"

Surprise rippled through Grace, but now her manner toward him was less concerned and more on the grateful side. "I think I'd like that. Might as well get some relaxation before Kim starts calling practices in the middle of the night."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Jerry snorted as the pair headed down the hall, Jerry lightly tugging on Grace's hand to pull her away from the board. Electricity tingled in her palm, and she almost forgot about everything—the next game, the affair—

The affair.

She bit down on her lip, hard, and threw another glance back at the whiteboard to distract her as she and Jerry turned the corner, the numbers branded into her mind.

When she closed her eyes, the little picture of the dragon still floated in front of her, hovering before her on the inside of her eyelids, taunting her.

* * *

><p>Jack was beyond exhausted from the practice they had just run—Monday practices were always the worst—but after a quick shower, he had decided to skip dinner in favor of heading to the library, where the chances of him being seen would be drastically minimized by the meal taking place at the exact same time.<p>

The Bobby Wasabi Private School library was open nearly the entire day, except for the ungodly hours of the late evening and early morning, and for that Jack was grateful. He pushed open the door slowly, his backpack steady on his shoulders, and after casting a glance around and noting that the librarian was probably getting something to eat as well, plopped down at the bank of computers lining the entire left wall and logged into the student network.

As he sat back to wait for the computer to adjust all his settings and examined the dark, wooden shelves packed with books, he reminded himself that he wasn't here to indulge in fantasies or satisfy his curiosity—it was merely to look up an article for his family history project.

…Right?

Jack had to admit that while Bobby Wasabi Private School did have spectacular (and liberating) teaching methods, the assigning of the family history project couldn't have come at a worse time. Each student was to present a small speech or compile a collage on each of their immediate family members, tell about their lives, explain what they had done and who they were.

Jack was not looking forward to this—especially not with his currently screwed-up family.

Once the computer had logged him in, he immediately clicked on the web browser button and leaned forward, his muscles tightening in anticipation.

It was officially time to completely rip the bandage off—he couldn't just avoid the event like it had never happened. Jack Anderson was no coward and he couldn't afford to show fear, apprehension, or ignorance now. Completely foregoing formalities, he simply headed straight to the Dallas Morning News website and scanned the articles, clicking back a couple of pages to see the older headlines, his brown eyes scrutinizing the page.

_No…no…no…_

He continued to scroll down at a hurried pace until he'd finally found what he was looking for. The headline alone, typed across the top of the page in simple font, was enough to induce pure anger, unadulterated fury in Jack.

His eyes traveled down the page, taking in the stately white background and black font with an emotionless expression. The picture on the article struck Jack harder than he had expected for it to, and he was surprised by the amount of emotion the man could still evoke in him.

Jack's astonishment was also tainted with bitter resignation. That man—the one staring at him from the computer screen, his eyes pulling at all of Jack's secrets—could hardly be even called a man. He was a murderer, a criminal, and most of all, he was Jack's—

Not even bothering to read the article while it was on the screen, Jack hit the _print_ button on the side of the web browser and heard the printer, some twenty feet away on a separate desk, start to hum with the new delivery. Quickly deleting his Internet and printing history on the computer, Jack turned, swiped the fresh article from the printer and stuffed it in his bag, promising to himself that he'd read it later in private.

The night air was cool as he stepped back outside the library again, and not a moment too soon; the librarian was just returning.

He hadn't been noticed, thank god.

Jack quickly made sure that the article was safely secure in the depths of his backpack before hurrying toward his dorm room and dropping off his school supplies. After throwing his backpack in his closet, he made a beeline for the dining hall, attempting to appear only a little bit late.

No one could know that Jack Anderson was the son of a deceased criminal.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Kim is going to freak," Milton muttered under his breath.<p>

Jack barely looked up from where he was currently scrawling untidily on a piece of paper, dutifully copying down the group's next question. Through several intense rounds of _Rock, Paper, Scissors_, their small table group of four—Jack, Milton, Julie, and Eddie—had determined that Jack would write down the answers for their activity. Jack's gray sweater, part of the school uniform, was rolled up to his elbows and he seemed to be in a slight trance as the pencil moved unsteadily across the blank paper.

"Why?" Eddie finally asked, answering the question still hanging in the air. Julie had leaned back and didn't appear to be interested in the conversation.

"Look outside," Milton pointed a pencil toward the lab windows.

Rain splattered down in pure sheets, driving against the windows with a fury Milton wouldn't have been able to describe if he'd tried. The sky, which had been a watery shade of blue just an hour or so ago, was now a dark, angry gray that seemed adamant and unwilling to let up.

Milton knew that the captain of the soccer team would be, by now, silently (or audibly) cursing out whatever deity there was in the universe for bestowing such unlucky weather on the town of San Jose. The game against Seaford Preparatory was in about four days and they'd been training extremely hard this entire week.

Milton pulled out his iPhone and, according to his trusty weather app, the rain would continue to last for the next two days—through Wednesday and partway through Thursday.

Rain on three days of the week. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

He could already see Kim's extremely pissed off expression.

Eddie's mouth dropped open, "When did it start _raining_?"

"About five minutes ago," Julie supplied coldly, her tone uncharacteristically harsh, before finally heeding a command from the teacher and whipping off her large, dark sunglasses she seemed to be toting around a lot lately. She raised her hazel eyes, tired and ringed with slight bruises, to Milton and Eddie before flicking a glance at the questions Jack was copying down. "Jack, you keep writing the word _rain _over and over again."

Milton thought he saw Jack's cheeks blush a faint pink. "Oh, right," Jack murmured as he lifted his head to grab an eraser. "Sorry, I'm a bit tired."

"Join the club," Julie invited, her voice soft but cruel, and Milton widened his eyes even further at her strangely sarcastic edge.

His girlfriend's behavior had been becoming increasingly strange these past few days and Milton didn't know if it was the stress of the upcoming game against Seaford or just her time of the month. However, Julie had never acted this angry and sarcastic in her life and it was beginning to worry Milton. Milton usually chalked her bad moods up to PMS, insomnia and her lack of sleep (and even then she was still sweet as honey), but she'd begun to look differently lately as well; she'd skipped wearing her glasses for three days in a row now in favor of putting in the contacts she usually reserved for soccer and she'd simply…changed.

"Why didn't you get any sleep, Jack?" Milton asked sympathetically. He knew that Julie suffered from sleeplessness, a reasonable hazard after so many late-night study sessions, but he had no clue why Jack wouldn't have been getting enough hours every night. Schoolwork wasn't starting to pile on the students yet, though Milton studied for at least two hours every evening.

Jack shifted in his seat, his eyes suddenly sharp and alert, the original cloudiness evaporated. "I was dealing with…some things. Homework."

Out of the corner of his eye, Milton saw Eddie give Jack a shifty glance as if Eddie was unsure what to add to that comment. Jack responded with a sharp, warning glare, and Eddie shrank back slightly.

"Anyway," Milton stuttered. "Jack, got those questions copied down?"

Jack tiredly handed over the sheet of notebook paper, now covered in writing that was slightly messy and distracted, as if the writer had been lost in a train of thought.

Which, Milton supposed, Jack had been.

"How are you guys doing on your English family history projects?" Milton brought up tentatively, noting the tension, practically tangible, hovering around the table.

Milton didn't miss how Jack had immediately stiffened up.

_Wrong move._

While Eddie was rambling on about how his uncle was the famous Big Easy from the Harlem Globetrotters or something, Milton was correcting all the grammatical and spelling mistakes Jack had made on the paper while giving the brunet slight glances from the corner of his eyes.

Jack's reflexes must have been down due to his lack of sleep, because he didn't immediately wipe his face blank of any emotions or even attempt to not look guilty. He simply sat there, his eyes shut as if that could protect him against whatever evil he was facing, and rested his hands on his arms, folded neatly atop the table. His head had flopped down, his shaggy brown hair flipping forward, and his face disappeared from Milton's view.

"How are you doing on your family project, Jack?" Julie asked after another thirty seconds, her quiet voice somehow seeming louder than the rest of the chatter in the room combined.

Jack's previously stiff posture tensed up even more, and he jerked his head, his face still facing the ground as he refused to look up. "Fine," he said sharply, his voice cold and slightly muffled by the fabric of his sweater. "Perfectly fine."

Milton looked back down at the paper, unsure of what to do or say.

A crack of thunder boomed outside before the sky seemed to split in half, lighting the classroom even further with the lightning streak that had chosen that exact moment to sprint across the clouds. In a flash, the sudden light disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Milton watched the rain pelting on the glass not five feet from their table, for once completely forgetting a chemistry assignment.

"Yep," Milton murmured, turning his intense blue eyes to the questions before taking Julie's hand under the table, squeezing it reassuringly. He tried to wipe everything from his mind—Jack's suspicious reactions to the family project, Julie's suddenly sarcastic personality, and Eddie's association with whatever Jack was going through.

And then, to finish up his previous sentence: "Kim is going to freak."

* * *

><p>Kim was, in fact, freaking out.<p>

The rest of the team's predictions had been correct—Kim was silently losing control inside, her emotions as unstable as the stormy weather outside.

What kind of god would choose _this_ week to torment the earth with pounding sheets of rain? Did whatever deity out there not _realize_ that they had a _veryveryveryvery_ crucial game against a very skilled soccer team and that they needed to _practice_, goddammit?

Her freak-out session was in a relatively empty space, though—the school's main gym. The basketball team had quit practice early and the bleachers were completely empty, devoid of people. It was a perfect place for her to plot, to plan, to think—and of course, to study. Her books were strewn all around her on the seats, above and below her. The blonde herself was situated in the very center of the mess, looking like a boarding school student sent straight from hell. She had no doubt her eyes were wild and her clothes were slightly messy; in fact, her tie was barely hanging on her neck.

With one impatient swipe, she snatched it off and threw it in the general direction of her bag.

Kim tried to think of what she could do to solve this bad weather problem. Could she ask the Wasabi Warriors to meet up in the gym for a strength and conditioning session? It wouldn't be easy, as she'd told the team that practice was canceled for the afternoon. The members of the team were no doubt spread all throughout the rainy campus, and it would be total hell to attempt to track them _all _down.

She had to clear her mind, she had to get her synapses firing again in coherent messages. This scrambled joining of random phrases was _not_ working.

The main gym door creaked open.

Good, someone to hit.

Of course, Kim would have never hit anyone who walked in the door—well, okay, with a few exceptions—but once she saw it was Jack, she wanted to punch the bleachers instead of the actual boy.

She considered doing it for a moment before deciding against it. Having an injury this close to gametime was a _huge_ no and besides, she couldn't afford to look out of control. Kimberly Crawford was captain of the soccer team—she wasn't known for _losing control._

Besides, while she didn't exactly want to be all buddy-buddy with Jack, she grown to…_respect him,_ she supposed. During the game when she'd assigned him as substitute captain, she'd watched the end of the game from under a tree and was surprised at how composed and confident Jack seemed even in a desperate situation, how encouraging he still was under pressure.

Plus, she sensed something about him—something that gave her the impression that he wasn't just a perfect person.

There was something…_off_ about him.

Whatever it was, that game (and the two following it) had changed drastically changed her initial opinion of him.

Jack looked pleasantly surprised to see her, though his brown eyes roved over her rumpled uniform and the tie unceremoniously dropped on her bag. The coffee-colored orbs widened even further as he took in the haphazardly piled textbooks, notepads, and random school supplies.

"Study session gone wrong?" Jack quipped, inching closer but still respecting her personal space.

Kim's heart rate spiked up at his concerned gaze and she attempted to calm it down, mentally wondering what the hell was wrong with her. "Something like that, I guess."

Jack hopped gracefully up onto the bleachers and scaled the seats, plopping down a couple feet from her. "You look stressed," Jack commented.

"No duh," she rolled her eyes, but it seemed like all the fight had gone out of her.

Despite her heartbeat that was steadily increasing in beats per second, peace started to work its way through her veins. Before, he had set her nerves on edge, but now Jack Anderson seemed to have an almost…_calming_ effect on her. It relaxed her and scared her at the same time.

"Do you mind if I study with you?" Jack asked as he threw his backpack down. "Eddie and Jerry are running around my dorm with Nerf guns and I honestly can't concentrate."

"Uh…sure?" Kim waved, drawing a weird shape in the air, meaning to convey that he could sit down. "It's a free gym."

She studied Jack's tie as he complied, finding it even more helpful to calm down if she concentrated on one single aspect of him. The green-and-gray article of clothing was slightly loosened and she chanced a glance up at his eyes.

The brown orbs were, strangely, tired and exhausted.

"Is there something on my face?" Jack smirked as he pulled an printed article of some sorts out of his bag.

Kim flushed a pale pink, "No. You just look tired. Are you working on the family project?"

"_No._"

Her eyes widened at his abrupt change in tone, and she held her hands up. "Hey, whoa, calm down! I'm just wondering!"

"Sorry," Jack rubbed his eyes tiredly. "The damn project has been keeping me up at night. So, yes, to answer your question, I've been working on it."

He eyed her carefully, as if debating over whether to say more before confessing, "My family's been going through some…_tough_ times right now and it's been hard to write about my family members."

_Welcome to my world,_ Kim wanted to sigh. _I've been dealing with an older sister with anorexia. And you?_

Instead, she nodded stiffly. "I…know what it's like going through family problems. If you want to…you can talk to me, I guess. Just don't make it awkward."

She had no idea where that last request had slipped out of but when Jack started to laugh, she bristled slightly. "Hey, it's not a bad demand! I _hate_ awkwardness! If you want to talk about awkward things go to Jerry, he thrives on awkwardness."

Maybe she was acting a little too friendly but all the stress had been getting to her head, and he helped her relax—even if her words and laughter were slightly hysterical.

She was really losing it.

Jack snorted. "Maybe I will talk to him. But anyway, how are you doing? Stressed, right? I'm really sorry about the rain…"

"Oh, don't even get me started on it," Kim waved impatiently as she grabbed a textbook. "There is nothing I hate more than rain."

A warm glow ignited in her once she saw Jack's trademark smile. "Yeah," Jack rolled his eyes. "I've got time. I'll get you started. So tell me about it."

She complied.

* * *

><p>The fields were nowhere near completely dry, but after another day of rain and one single day of clear sunshine (Milton's weather app had been wrong, to Kim's great relief), Kim deemed the fields acceptable enough to at least dribble a soccer ball on.<p>

Have field, will play.

_Game: two days away,_ Kim mentally noted to herself as she observed the players during a water break. It was Thursday, and the day after tomorrow was _the game._

The practice was going reasonably well. Even though Grace and Kelsey were complaining about mud sticking to their cleats, Kat looked so pissed off that she could murder someone, and Eddie was whining about being hungry, everyone else looked focused and ready to kick some Seaford Prep ass.

Well, except for one other person.

Jerry's movements had seemed robotic throughout the entire practice so far. Kim watched as the goalie snagged his water bottle and immediately returned right back to the goal, staring at the net as his water bottle hung limply by his side.

To elaborate even further, his performance today so far had been…empty. Jerry was a complete klutz during school but when he was surrounded by the goal with the net backing him up and his gloves on his hands, Jerry was graceful and fluid, catching nearly every ball sent his way, results of his hard work for many years. This was the worst Kim had seen Jerry play all season and in all honesty, it was starting to scare her.

She hazarded another glance at the tired team before jogging across the field, nearing the goal and stepping softly up to Jerry's side.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?" she asked after a few long moments. She thought she had a faint idea of what was bothering him, but she was apprehensive to voice her suspicions out loud.

Jerry hadn't even bothered to acknowledge her presence so far, and his reply seemed far away as he muttered, out of the corner of his mouth, "_I'm scared._"

Kim's eyes widened and Jerry now turned to her fully, his brown eyes full of sharp clarity, a far cry from the uninterested gaze he'd been bearing just three seconds ago. "Jerry…"

"I mean it, Kim."

Kim looked down at the grass, before twisting sideways and pulling Jerry into a tight hug.

The goalie towered several inches above her but she still managed to whisper into his ear, "I know. And you have good reason to be, but we need you to pull yourself together. You're one of the most valuable players on this team, Jerry, we can't lose you now."

Jerry stiffened at these reprimanding words.

"I know," Kim continued soothingly, "That the stress and the pressure of this game is getting to you. Especially because it's against the Black Dragons—"

The goalie pulled away.

"_But,_" Kim pressed on, determined to let her message be known, "You're the single best goalie in the district, Jerry. You've got nothing on Seaford's goalie, and we _need_ you to win."

Jerry's gaze seemed even more broken now. "But…I just don't know how to explain it, Kim—I'm just _scared._"

If they were touching on any other topic or subject, Jerry wouldn't have dared to complain to Kim. He was aware of how much the blonde hated weakness and whining, but this was an extremely sensitive subject and Kim didn't blame him at all for feeling fear.

"I know."

Jerry's glare was sharp as he turned on her, "I don't think you do. They…they…they were so unfair, and…they—"

Jerry's voice cracked, and his eyes swiveled back to the goal. "I'm afraid I'm going to start having those nightmares again, and that I'll start bothering Jack. And everyone else."

Kim's voice was raw with surprise, "You've been having the nightmares?"

"Just one or two," Jerry admitted reluctantly, his confidence shrinking under the captain's concerned, slightly outraged glare (though the rage was in no way directed at him). "But they've been getting worse."

A long, long beat of silence.

Kim wanted to comfort him. She wanted to wrap him into another hug and tell him that everything would be okay, because the two of them were more than just a captain and a player, much more than just teammates. They were friends, two separate individuals drawn even closer than they were before because of one single event that changed them both.

It changed them both for the worse.

"Jerry," Kim whispered after a few moments of consideration. "I know what they did. To you, to me, to this team. It wasn't just _unfair,_ it was just _sick_. Horrible. Trust me, none of us are strangers to underhandedness anymore."

There was a tense silence as Jerry simply repeated, "I know. And I'm still scared."

"Yeah," Kim finally muttered, her expression bleak. "To be honest, Jerry…me too."

* * *

><p>The first thing Jack heard was mumbling.<p>

The second thing he heard was a muffled scream.

Before he knew it, he was sitting bolt upright in bed, a hand unconsciously reaching out to snap on his bedside lamp. Squinting his brown eyes and mentally noting that his dark hair probably looked like a haystack, his eyes swept across the room in a hurry, searching for the disruption that had been so serious that it had broken his sleep.

It was Jerry.

The raven-haired goalie was evidently having a nightmare of some sort, but Jack couldn't exactly tell what the subject matter was. Jerry's forehead was beaded with cold sweat, and Jack tentatively crossed the room, tip-toeing to Jerry's bedside and leaning forward to examine his—

Jack staggered back in shock as Jerry's left arm swung out, missing Jack's face by mere centimeters as Jerry screamed something into his pillow and waved his arm frantically again, his left arm joining in this peculiar dance.

The delayed panic that Jack should have felt was now starting to settle in, and he watched helplessly for the next thirty seconds as Jerry's face pressed into his pillow, shrieking unintelligible things and his arms battling unseen enemies. Jack attempted to shake him awake, placing his hands on Jerry's shoulders and jerking the poor boy back and forth in desperation, effectively knocking Jerry's head back and forth but _not_ rousing him from sleep.

Nothing worked.

Jerry finally flipped onto his back out of his own accord, and, just for a second, his previously agitated body stilled completely as he murmured something, his voice almost pleading. Jack leaned forward, straining to catch what it was—

"Don't…hurt…me…"

Jack's chocolate-colored orbs widened, and the possibility of what might be taking place in Jerry's nightmare frightened him enough to keep him shaking the boy in vain, desperately trying to free him from whatever dream-induced hell he was trapped in. Jerry resumed his previous movements, struggling to fight what wasn't there, what wasn't visible.

Jerry refused to wake up.

However, Jerry's fists fought Jack, and the latter found himself ducking wild swings and punches as Jerry aimed blindly. Jack carefully avoided them before catching a punch straight in the jaw, and he stumbled back several feet from the bed, his head spinning from the impact.

Willing to do anything to put a stop to Jerry's nightmares, Jack sprinted across the length of the room and snapped the lights on, the room flooding with bright light and flinging Jack into a blindness that lasted for about three seconds. His eyes narrowed in an attempt to see better, Jack staggered back to Jerry's bedside, where Jerry's fighting seemed to be coming to a gradual stop.

Jack took this opportunity to shake Jerry even further, until—

"_Help!_"

The scream from Jerry's lips was so unexpected that Jack completely dropped Jerry's collar, the goalie sinking back onto his sweat-soaked sheets.

"_Don't hurt me!_"

This shriek was even louder than the last one, if that were possible, and it struck Jack as if an actual blow had been exacted against his stomach. Jack had never heard Jerry Martinez scream like this, and whatever happened next, Jack just wanted to be able to erase the memory, the voice, from his mind.

"_Let me go!"_

"Dude, come on, wake up!" Jack yelled, his pleading voice riddled with fear, taking hold of Jerry's collar again. "Please, Jerry, wake up! You're in a dream, a nightmare, just _please wake up_—"

The next thing Jack saw was a pair of brown eyes.

Jerry's eyes had snapped open at those words, and the pupils were so dilated that Jack seemed to be staring into pools of black. Jerry's breathing was heavy, labored, as if he'd just run ten miles nonstop, and they stared at each other for a moment in pure shock.

"I—I—"

"Wait," Jack whispered fiercely, "Right here. Do not move, do not even get up. I'll be right back."

Acknowledging in the back of his mind that it was probably a bad idea to leave Jerry alone after that horrifying episode, Jack still dived out of the room and sprinted down the hall, ignoring the fact that his hair was sticking straight up and that he was in his pajamas. The water cooler located in the middle of the hallway was Jack's current salvation, and the brunet waited impatiently as the huge jug of clear liquid emptied water into the paper cup clutched in Jack's right hand.

As soon as the cup was filled to the brim with cold, icy water, Jack dutifully dashed down the hall, back the way he'd come, his eyes focusing on nothing else but the door to his room, ajar—

Jack promptly dropped the paper cup.

The small, thin container fell to the wooden floor, the contents instantly spreading across the dark wood like a ravenous monster looking for prey to consume, but at that moment, Jack couldn't have cared less about how much cleaning he was going to have to do.

He was staring at Jerry Martinez, huddled at the foot of his bed.

With a razor in his hand.

Jerry's half-surprised, half-_I've-just-gotten-caught-and-I'm-so-screwed_ expression was what snapped Jack back to reality, and Jack practically leaped across the room and knocked the razor out of Jerry's hands, sending it skidding across the dark floor and spinning into the shadow of the goalie's bed.

"What the _hell_, Jerry?" Jack demanded, his voice pitchy and uneven from his lack of breath and total shock. "I asked you to do nothing for about maybe thirty seconds and when I come back you're _cutting yourself_—"

"Don't!" Jerry snapped right back, anger pulsating in his dark eyes, the pupils now shrunk back to normal size. The happiness, the carefree personality that Jack had grown so accustomed to witnessing was now long gone, replaced by a fury and a fear Jack had never seen in Jerry's eyes before. He looked almost insane as he spit out, "Don't even _try_ to judge me right now! Not without knowing the full story!"

Jack exhaled sharply, his thoughts, his movements, and his voice riddled and hyped up with nervous adrenaline. "Then tell me! Why were you on the verge of cutting? One self-harming player on this team is enough!"

Jerry's eyes flickered in surprise at the mention of self-harm but then they hardened as he looked away at the opposite wall, whispering, "I was just making sure I'd really woken up."

Something about his tone dissolved all the fury Jack had managed to build up inside of him, and the brunet slowly sat down, next to Jerry, inconspicuously kicking the razor even farther away with his foot as he slid onto the ground. "Of course you woke up, Jerry. I'm here."

"Sometimes I don't think I wake up," Jerry mumbled, looking down at the ground. "It helps me if I feel pain. It reminds me that I'm awake."

Silence, as Jack pondered these words.

"But I still feel pain in my dreams. This is just a different kind of pain."

Jack's eyes grew the tiniest bit larger in diameter as he registered that quiet, matter-of-fact statement, and for once he had to think for a long time to come up with a fitting response.

"So, you want to tell me what that was all about?" Jack suggested quietly, his mind still reeling from these events. Normally, at this hour, his brain would have been working as slow as a turtle's but this slight diversion from his sleep had changed many things.

The corner of Jerry's mouth twitched up in a slight smile. "No, not really."

"You can tell me, you know."

Jerry looked doubtful.

"I mean it," Jack patted Jerry's shoulder awkwardly, but the Latino barely smiled at the kind gesture. "I know I haven't known you for that long but I really care about you—like the entire team does. You can tell me. I won't judge, I won't bite. I'm just me."

Jack could see that Jerry was struggling to come up with words and waited patiently as Jerry ventured nervously, "Well, I have…nightmares sometimes."

"What about?"

Jerry stiffened up again. "No. Don't ask that."

Jack silently cursed himself for asking such a forward question. He himself had nightmares, and while he never woke up screaming, preferring to suffer silently and grip his sheets as tightly as he dared, he knew how hard it was just to mention what topics the dreams even touched on.

"I'm sorry," Jack murmured genuinely. "But you really don't want to talk about it? I won't judge. I'm easy to talk to."

"I know that," Jerry waved it off. "I've talked to you lots before. Plus, Kim told me that."

Jack arched an eyebrow. "Kim's talked to you about me before?"

"Earlier." Jerry looked embarrassed that he'd let something that resembled a secret slip. "It was nothing bad, she was just confused after the rainy day, do you remember?"

"Yeah," Jack recalled. "I just talked to her in the gym. She ranted, got all her stress out of her system."

Jerry smirked. "I think she likes you."

Jack was a bit surprised at Jerry's sudden change in mood. "Are you always happy again so quickly after a nightmare?"

"Well, no," Jerry's gaze returned to the floor. "I don't usually have someone with me, I roomed alone last year. You're my first roommate in a while."

Jack breathed out decisively. "Well, that's good, then. Anytime you have a nightmare, tell me. If you want to talk, I'll talk with you as late as you want, but don't hesitate to tell me, okay? I'm here for you if you need it."

"Sure," Jerry shrugged, the goalie's face tinged the slightest shade of pink as he crawled back under his blankets.

Jack retreated to his side of the room, staring at Jerry's slowly relaxing face before snapping off his own light and sliding under the covers.

Sleep, however, didn't come easily.

* * *

><p>"Kim! Hey, <em>Kim!<em>"

The blonde abruptly turned around in the hallway, her eyes seeking out the source currently belting out her name. After searching the crowds of students roaming the halls during passing period for at least five seconds, she finally pinpointed the voice; Jack was pushing through the crowds of people to reach her.

As much as she'd grown to at least somewhat like the brunet, she was not in the mood for anything right now. Her night had been virtually sleepless and being forced to go to school at this early hour in the morning had rendered her cranky. Plus, there was the fact that their game against the Seaford Black Dragons was _tomorrow_ and she thought they were still very well underprepared.

Kim had the fleeting thought that she was being too hard on the Wasabi Warriors, but due to her currently cranky state she dismissed it and resolved to work even harder.

"What, Anderson?" Kim snapped as soon as Jack came within earshot, sharper than she had intended. She quickly amended, "Sorry. Late night. What's up, Jack? Something wrong?"

Jack darted a few apprehensive glances back and forth before tugging Kim behind a row of lockers, where the roar of the students was slightly muted. "Do you know anything about Jerry having…nightmares?"

The blood instantly drained out of Kim's face, and although the warning bell rang at this point and the crowds of students were thinning fast and she desperately needed to get to first period, she held Jack's intense brown eyes as she whispered, "He's been having nightmares?"

Jack nodded slowly, a bit surprised at her tone. "Yeah, he had one last night. Woke me up and everything, I had to shake him awake and calm him down. He wouldn't tell me what it was about."

"Of course he wouldn't," Kim muttered, her mind reeling.

One of her worst fears had been confirmed.

Jack seemed to be gauging her reaction before pressing, "It's a regular thing, then?"

Kim's mind was ten times more awake than it had been a minute ago, and her brain uselessly informed her that Jerry had started having these nightmares after last season, after that totally disastrous—

_Breathe._

Kim inhaled sharply as she demanded, "Did he say anything? Do anything? Move, talk?"

Jack considered the words for a fraction of a second. "He kept pleading for someone not to hurt him—Kim, is something wrong?"

Jack's recent sentence seemed to have punched a hole straight through Kim's heart, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Did he fight, did he scream for help?" she raised her eyes to him, her breathing now hitched.

"Uh…I'm not sure how you know this, but yeah—"

She had to find Jerry—_now. _Him having these nightmares again was _not_ a good sign. She'd received warning signs from their conversation during practice yesterday that they were recurring again but to actually find out that they were again a reality…

"_OkaythanksJackbyenow,"_ she muttered hurriedly, her words a scrambled jumble of a phrase that had barely torn itself from her lips before she herself was tearing down the hallway, desperate to find the goalie of the team, determined to ask questions, to comfort him.

"Kim—hey, _Kim_?" Jack yelled at her retreating back, beyond confused at her abnormal reaction. "Where are you—?"

The door at the end of the hall swung shut with a loud _bang,_ cutting off Kim's footsteps and Jack's unanswered question.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter was a bit of a filler in terms of the soccer games. It focused mainly on their preparation for the next soccer game—against the Seaford Black Dragons. As you can see, about two weeks have elapsed since chapter nine and I can't write all the chapters out so you'll have to settle for Jerry and Grace's awkward discussions at the whiteboard.**

**Would anyone like to guess what Jerry's plotline is now? He also has a smaller, less major one besides what has been hinted at in the Jerry/Ricky/Kim triangle and I'm wondering if you guys know what either of the plotlines are about. **

**Speaking of plotlines, each character—the main ones such as Jack, Kim, Jerry, Eddie, Milton, Julie, Grace—have at least some sort of plot that will be mentioned throughout the whole story. While I was finalizing their personal issues and plots neatly I finally realized how depressing some of them—hell, all of them—will be. Their problems touch on several things that induce depression in teens: cutting, anorexia, bulimia, abuse, divorce, and affairs.**

**On that cheerful note, I will cut off this A/N with one final request: review, please?**


	11. Blame It On The Captain

**A/N: My gosh, so many reviews, I love you all. Your support truly means a lot to me, you guys have no idea how much I enjoy reading your comments and your favorite quotes…thank you so much. **

**Sorry about the major delay on this chapter but I was a bit stuck; not only did I have writers block, my stupid temper got my laptop taken away for a few days. I'm also packing for China as we speak and I didn't have a lot of time to write, what with school ending and everything.**

**There's a longer, quite important A/N at the end, so I'd appreciate it if you read it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p>"<em>If you want to score a goal, you have to hit the target."<em>

…

_—Fabio Capello_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER ELEVEN: Blame It On The Captain<strong>

He finally forced himself to pick up the article.

The paper was permanently creased, the result of being folded and unfolded multiple times out of agitation and apprehension. The article itself was dated from nearly three weeks ago, almost four, but the writer made it seem as if it had happened just yesterday. He had crossed out the picture of the man staring blankly at him from the middle of the page with a black pen, driving the tip of the writing utensil into the white sheet until the photo was unrecognizable.

His brown eyes dropped down to the words.

_David Anderson, criminal, was found dead yesterday in a burned-down house, in the outskirts of Dallas, Texas. _

_Police reports show that the cause of the fire was deliberate, and detectives are leaning toward ruling this as a suicide. His body was found among the ruins of the charred wood, his facial features burned beyond recognition._

_While he hasn't been completely identified yet the possessions found along with him have been confirmed as belonging to David Anderson and he is presumed dead. He was cremated and is to be given a funeral by his living wife. Anderson's son is abstaining from attending, and Mrs. Anderson refused to answer any more questions at this point pertaining to the impact that Anderson's outcome has had on the family._

His jaw tightened at this, his hands now nearly crushing the paper, and he thought he felt his right eyebrow twitch, the area above his right eye jerking involuntarily.

That was not a good sign.

He rubbed his right temple tiredly and continued to read.

_Ten years ago, David Anderson was convicted of physically and verbally abusing his wife and son, Jack Anderson (now sixteen). After filing for divorce, his wife, Amy Anderson, stated that he kept "harassing and threatening" her, often returning and voicing death threats in her home. During an altercation with the police nearly six months ago, it is believed by psychologists that he lost his mind completely and ever since, has been going across the country, from state to state, targeting families._

_His victims were mostly mothers with young children, and after killing them he carved an 'A' into their wrists. The police confirmed that he was a serial killer and ever since have been trying to locate him and bring him to justice._

He snorted. Justice? Even if they would have brought him in, if they were smart enough to catch him, they should have killed him on the spot. What he did didn't deserve a life sentence in jail—no, it deserved real punishment.

Without even bothering to finish the article—it was most likely complete bullshit anyway—he crumpled the papers in his hands and pitched them across the room, the wrinkled article finding a new home in his closet. He flopped back on his pillow and sunk into the soft fabric. He would have liked to burn the article, but it would be too similar to his father's death, wouldn't it? Something going up in flames?

He got what he wanted from the article—the truth.

_Jack Anderson, soccer player._

_Jack Anderson, forward._

_Jack Anderson…son of a dead criminal._

Call him crazy, but he wasn't a big fan of that last title. Something about being related to a psychologically unstable man who had committed over thirty murders before dying just didn't appeal to him.

Jack had applied to Bobby Wasabi Private Academy for several reasons—the biggest and foremost of them being the fact that this school, this scholarship, was a much-needed opportunity to start fresh. Back home, after word of his father had been leaked out by a boy Jack had thought was his friend, he hadn't been treated the same. People were different toward him—cold, scared, almost angry, as if Jack had been the one murdering people and slashing letters into their wrists instead of his father.

He'd tried to make them listen, he really had.

Unfortunately, it hadn't worked.

He now stood up, ignoring the sleeping figure in the corner. Jerry had gone to sleep about an hour ago and the goalie had dropped off like a snoring rock. Jack was positive nothing could wake him, and was glad that at least right now, he didn't look to be having any nightmares.

However, looks were deceptive.

The mention of nightmares brought up the fresh memory of Kim running away this morning, her eyes panicked and wild as she burst out the doors, presumably to seek out Jerry. Jack hadn't been able to get a chance to talk to her at all during the rest of the day and practice had been an official matter—he couldn't bring personal business into this when their game was, ahem, tomorrow.

He knew that staying up so late on a Friday night—especially when their biggest game of the season so far was less than twelve hours away—was highly stupid of him, but he'd been working on his family project in private and now he needed a break.

Slinging on his hoodie, he was halfway to the door, determined to take a walk, before he stopped in his tracks, turning around.

Reconsidered.

He couldn't go on a random walk when it was late already and most of the students were in bed. Their game against the Seaford Black Dragons was tomorrow, and the entire team, not just Kim, had already been stressing to Jack how important it was for them to win if they wanted a shot at getting into the state playoffs. He had an obligation to the team, and he couldn't help them win if he was half dead on his feet.

Jack Anderson had to do for his team what his father had never done for him—he had to be there for the ones that were counting on him.

With a sigh, he slowly trudged back to his bed, not even bothering to undress properly, and slumped down, propped up against the wall, staring straight ahead. His expression was blank, the kind of look someone would take on when they thought they were going nowhere in life, if they thought that they were already nowhere.

Maybe, just maybe, his biggest fear was coming true.

The corners of the crumpled article peeked out at him from the slightly ajar doors of his closet, mocking him and reminding him of who he was, who his father was, and the harsh fact that he couldn't change any of it.

Swinging out a hand, he snapped off his lamp with a little more force than necessary, plunging the room into total darkness, and slid all the way horizontal, the fabric of his hoodie rubbing against his cheek as he curled up, seeking sleep.

He didn't get any.

* * *

><p>His name was Steven.<p>

Strangely, he was the only new player on the Seaford Black Dragons this season. He had to admit, it felt like a privilege—all the members of the soccer team were treated better just in general—but there was something…_unsettling_ about the team that made him twitch.

Maybe it was because there was two hours until the much-anticipated game against the Wasabi Warriors from Bobby Wasabi Private School, and here he was in an empty classroom—well, empty except for one other person—staring at a projector flashing images of the members of the opposing team onto the screen.

Point out whatever other faults you wanted about the Black Dragons, but they took their opposition seriously—especially when the other team was the Black Dragons' biggest rivals.

Donna, one of the two co-captains, had given him a list of info about some of the key players on the other team and also a picture of what they looked like. Now they were sitting alone in the dark classroom, and she was quizzing him. Bizarre, but hey, Steven wanted to win, and if it meant practically stalking the other team, so be it.

The first picture flashed up onto the screen—a pretty Asian player, with dark, intense eyes and black, glossy hair that reached just two inches or so past her shoulders. In the sunlight from the photo he could almost see tints of red gleaming in her hair, a strange color considering her race, and judging from her unsuspecting position and her eyes that weren't directed at the camera, this was most definitely a candid photo.

"Name?" Donna demanded from behind him.

Steven focused on the Bobby Wasabi seal printed across the girl's blazer slung over her bag and then her slightly thoughtful facial expression. "Kat Chen."

"Things to remember?"

"She punched Ricky in the face last season." Here Steven allowed himself a small smirk—he didn't like Ricky much, even though he was one of his captains, but he liked Donna alright. Maybe it was because she was really, _really_ hot. "Anger issues, possibly depression as well. Defender."

"You've studied," Donna flipped back her long, auburn curls in a slightly condescending manner. "Let's hurry this up so we can get ready for the game." She clicked a few buttons in rapid succession, and then, "Name this person and tell me about her."

This time, a blonde appeared on the screen, with penetrating, unusually dark eyes and a guarded expression. Despite her tense look she was still smiling, walking alongside another brunette with long brown hair that crept nearly halfway down her back.

"Kimberly Crawford—or Kim," Steven rattled off knowledgably. He continued to stare up at the screen, at the blonde who seemed to be walking right toward him with the other girl. "Captain of the team, and she's also a forward. Great aim. Used to be romantically involved with one of the members of this team."

He refrained from specifying which member of the team, as the notion was still ridiculous to him, but Donna was well aware that Steven knew.

"I hate her," Donna hissed harshly as she tapped the projector thoughtfully. "Really hate her."

Steven didn't really know how to respond to that, so as an afterthought, he mumbled, "Oh, and the other girl is Grace West. Another forward, left-footed."

"Fifty points to Steven!" Donna clapped sarcastically as she switched the picture with an air of distaste.

Over the next five minutes, Steven identified a tall, skinny midfielder known as Milton Krupnick, who was known for the strength in his left foot, and his girlfriend, also a midfielder named Julie Alexander_._ There was Eddie Stevenson, a boy whose yearbook photo from last year was shown up on the screen, and a few more players. Steven had no idea where Donna had gotten all of these photos—some were candid, some were yearbook—but it seemed that the Black Dragons did their research well when initiating new players.

"Tell me all you can about this person," Donna instructed him after he'd successfully listed every single bit of info he knew about the previous students.

Steven examined the photo closely. It was of a player in motion, a goalie leaping up to catch a soccer ball, arms outstretched, eyes wide open and fixed on the ball. The net almost seemed to be wavering behind him and Steven was momentarily surprised that the player didn't move on the screen—maybe grab the ball, or fall to the ground.

"Jerry Martinez," Steven finally uttered. "Goalie, and a pretty damn good one too."

Donna smirked. "Generous, aren't you?"

Steven ignored her jab. "Not much else to say, really. Loves to dance. Good at kicking goal kicks, almost never lets a goal in. Has never let a PK in."**  
><strong>

Donna seemed to stare at the picture for even longer than Steven, and a ripple of tension shot through him as he remembered a piece of gossip he'd heard in the boys' locker room.

"I heard that…you guys did something to him last season—"

"Whatever you heard, hun," Donna threw out carelessly, "It's probably true. We aren't exactly known for playing fair, we play to _win._ Nothing else, end of story."

Steven's mouth dropped open at this basic confirmation. "So you really—"

Donna, apparently impatient, changed the picture instantly, cutting off his words. An unfamiliar figure popped up, the face of a brunet Steven had never seen before.

Steven's eyes widened, "Who's this?"

"New player," Donna whispered silkily. "We just got this photo. We've told you a bit about him. He's Jack Anderson, forward."

Surprise shot through Steven. In fact, he had heard a lot about this player, though most of it was gossip and rumors.

"He's good, I'll admit it—used to play select back in Dallas, transferred here a few weeks into the semester. Great dribbling skills. He's made quite a big impression in such a short amount of time," Donna explained.

"This is Jack?" Steven stared up at the face projected onto the screen with an air of interest. Chocolate-colored eyes, shaggy hair on the long-ish side. It wasn't a school yearbook photo but a candid one, which Steven supposed made sense if he'd transferred here only earlier this semester. He was walking out of the field complex every school played at with the rest of his team, his eyes wild with the kind of victory that Steven had only seen in players who scored desperate, last-minute goals.

"Hot, don't you think?" Donna commented after a few seconds.

Steven pulled his eyes away from the picture, "Uh, can I take the fifth?"

Donna shrugged, "Fair enough. Me, I'd say he's pretty cute. But moving on…from what we've told you about him so far, he's our biggest threat, along with Crawford, their captain. So what's our team's goal this season?"

He knew the answer.

It had been drilled into his head the moment he'd been accepted onto the team.

Steven stared up into the chocolate-brown eyes, focusing on the picture before turning to his captain with hardened resolve.

"Break him."

* * *

><p>A wry smile spread across Kim's face, half bitter and half sarcastic.<p>

She finished tying up her hair and yanked her high ponytail even tighter, the strands tugging at her scalp with a familiar pull. Sliding a pitch-black Nike headband onto her honey-blond head, she turned and examined herself for any flaws.

Her reflection in the mirror was emotionless, a feat that in itself was nearly impossible. She had tried to hide her emotions for ages, ever since she was young, but after a short time she'd accepted that she was type that wore her heart on her sleeve. If her face was red with fury, you would know that she was in a horribly angry mood. If she was in an exuberant mood, her face displayed it; you immediately knew that something good had happened, that she was simply enjoying life.

But right now? She didn't know what she was feeling. There was tension balling up in her stomach, a sphere of nervous energy at the prospect of the game starting in an hour.

This was normal. She was a captain, and captains held a lot of control and responsibility over the team. She took every single loss personally, and every single win as just another sign to work harder.

But today was different. Today was special—and not in a good way.

Today, she had to face her fears, her irrational behavior, her own petty problems and put them all aside to make sure the Wasabi Warriors would win.

Winning was all she wanted now.

Flashes of Ricky and Donna flickered through her mind at the speed of lightning, accompanied by another player's face, this one her friend, nowhere near being her enemy.

Jerry Martinez.

Jerry put on a good façade, she'd give him that—after being traumatized the first few weeks last semester after their last game, he seemed to have bounced back quickly. He cracked jokes again, played pranks, and when he finally got his casts off, he danced to the music he loved so much and resumed the position of goalie, even though the season was over.

But Kim knew how well he hid it, how expertly he masked his fear and his worry that what happened last season would once again occur, with slightly bigger damage this time around. She had no idea how Jerry would handle today's game, but she knew he was strong in the end; she just had to have faith in him.

A fourth person popped up in her mind, all shaggy brown hair and dreamy brown eyes—Jack. Perfect figure, all-star athlete, the nicest guy you'd ever meet.

Based on the events that had occurred between Kim and Jack that rainy day in the gym, she had the gut feeling that no matter what she told Jack, he would never judge her based on the drastic mistakes she'd made last season. Jack wasn't the type to judge people, after all—he hadn't made a point to run away from anyone yet. Though every single one of the players was skilled beyond belief at soccer, the entire Wasabi Warriors team was just a closely-knit band of misfits.

Except for Jack, who seemed to be…perfect.

But then again, she'd decided when she'd ranted to him over an hour last week about the rain that he wasn't completely perfect, through-and-through. He had at least one thing that he preferred to keep hidden from the rest of his teammates.

And even though Kim knew how incredibly crucial it was to keep some issues in the dark every now and then, she couldn't help but resolve to find out what it was.

* * *

><p>He was nervous.<p>

It was an understatement, really, but as the bus pulled up to the field complex and their team, already somber from the near-silent bus ride over, piled off and pooled out onto the concrete, Jerry Martinez was now fully convinced that he had never felt more apprehensive in his life.

Grace saw his sickened expression and leaned over slightly, peering into his eyes. He attempted to arrange his features into a calm, placid expression solely for the brunette's sake, but the poorly constructed mask crumbled within seconds, leaving him feeling hatred at his weakness and fear at the impending game that would start in less than an hour now.

"You're afraid." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

He considered denying it before remembering that it was Grace he was talking to, and aside from Kim, Grace West was his best girl friend. He'd thought about taking it farther than that sometimes, but always decided against it.

Jerry tugged his eyes away from Rudy, who was yelling instructions to the players with Kim enforcing the commands right behind him. The team was already beginning their short trek to their designated playing field when Jerry nodded. "I think I am."

"I'm—none of us are blaming you," Grace whispered gently. "It's your first time seeing them on a field since last season, right?"

Jerry confirmed this with another tight nod. "Yeah."

He almost thought he could feel the sites of his old injuries on his body tingling once again, not exactly with pain this time but an unsettling, nervous kind of energy. It was hard to remember where he hadn't been broken and it seemed his whole body was buzzing with tension.

As they arrived at the field, Jerry quickly saw that the Black Dragons were already there setting up their side of the field, sticking the bright orange flags into the corners of the grass and warming up. Eddie trudged off to set up the flags for the Wasabi Warriors while everyone else plopped their bags down and started passing lightly back and forth, in groups while Kim collected her things and did another head count.

The black and red uniforms blurred Jerry's eyes for a moment, a huge dragon suddenly appearing at the edges of his vision and the world tilting a bit at the angles.

Was he the only one feeling the butterflies currently having a party in his stomach?

He noted, with some reassurance, that he wasn't the only one who seemed to be unnerved by the pure existence of the Black Dragons on the other side of the field. Out of the people on the team, Kim was trying her best to stay put together but Jerry could see it in her eyes—she was reliving moments from last season, and, knowing Kim, not a single memory was a positive one.

After passing with Grace for a few minutes Jerry took his familiar spot in goal, strapping his goalie gloves on and catching the easy shots aimed towards him. It had become reflex over the years to just catch ball after ball during warm-up, and though it was supposed to be easy he couldn't help but drift off, staring at the opposite side of the field.

Staring at the tall, lean blond player taking perfect shots at the other goal as well, hair spiked up in the front, a cocky smile spread over his face as he took in the Wasabi Warriors' tension and whispered to the striking, auburn-headed female player next to him.

Ricky's grin grew even wider when he met Jerry's eyes, and the goalie quickly averted his gaze and focused on the ball, a shot from Jack that had just whooshed past him, straight into the goal.

It simply wasn't fair. Jack was still performing well over the top but he hadn't been burdened with the secret and the betrayal that had threatened to break this team ever since last spring, ever since one of their own had made a simple mistake that had led to so many complex outcomes. Jack looked slightly worried at the team's silent but deadly war-like demeanor and though his own face was set with a hard resolve to win, his eyes grew even larger when he noticed Kim whipping a shot right past the oblivious goalie.

_Focus, Martinez,_ he chanted to himself.

Kim gave him a pitying and yet somehow encouraging look as she readjusted the earbuds trailing a white line across her dark green jersey from her head to her pocket, and Jerry immediately knew she was drowning out everything by listening to her pre-game playlist.

He really had to focus. By now, he'd let in three straight goals—by Jack, Kim, and Milton. Even though Milton didn't look it, he had a killer left foot that could land shots in the net, right past unsuspecting, innocent goalies. For some reason, Milton didn't like the spotlight unless it came to academics so it was usually up to Jack, Kim, or Grace to make those goals during games.

Three shots, right past him, and they'd barely even started warming up. It had to be a new low—even if he wasn't exactly trying.

He mentally whacked himself on the head and leaped for the next one, a high shot by Kat that nearly touched the top of the goal. He tipped it from the potential confines of the net with his fingertips and Kat returned to the back of the line.

Jerry allowed himself one last sweep of the field, from the Black Dragons down to the players right in front of him, his teammates who had been nothing but supportive since he'd joined this team.

Everyone here, whether they knew it or not, was playing to win, and Jerry Martinez was no exception.

This goalie was playing to win as well—and more than ever now.

* * *

><p>Jack had never felt like this yet this season.<p>

In his past, soccer-related history, he could recall a few times when he had experienced the adrenaline burning through his veins, hyping him up, his brain going into soccer-robot mode as he stood at the center of the field, awaiting kickoff, but so far he hadn't felt anything like this season.

Until now.

He found it a bit odd how the captains on each team were all forwards in this game. Ricky was a left forward and Donna was the center, the auburn-headed player currently facing off against Kim. The two captains shot each other death glares; Ricky caught Jack's eye and shook his head disdainfully, as if the Wasabi Warriors were so beneath the Black Dragons that a game wasn't even required to show that.

Pointedly turning away, Jack instead spun on his right heel and did a quick check on all the players, since the referees were still delaying the game for another minute. It wasn't exactly his job to do this—he wasn't captain, after all, Kim was—but he was a former captain, and this was second nature to him now.

Grace was turned around, just like Jack, but instead of looking around her eyes were fixed on the goalie, the farthest player from her. She seemed to be simply watching Jerry with a worried glimmer in her eyes and Jack once again wondered what was going on between the two, whether their relationship was totally platonic or if it hinted at anything more.

Eddie was shifting from foot to foot on the defense line. Trailing his eyes down the line, Jack watched Kelsey examining her nails with a bored look on her face and Pete jumping up and down to warm his legs up. Kat was staring straight ahead with a formidable expression written into her features.

Milton was stretching his left leg, and Jack was suddenly struck with the odd thought that Milton looked a lot like a crane while warming up in that particular way. The midfielder shot a look across the midfielder line to Julie on the other side, whose expression was, once again, slightly moody and, apart from that, indiscernible. Kyle, stuck between the two, was giving Kat wary looks, and the defender responded half-heartedly.

The whistle blew, effectively snapping Jack's head back around to face the front, his one-two-three mentality coming into play again as Kim rolled the ball to him.

Adrenaline coursing through his body at a faster speed now, he immediately dove toward his right, using this first play of the game as not a chance to show off but as a sort of way to test the waters, see how talented the Black Dragons really were.

He narrowly avoided Donna's swinging leg—the auburn-headed forward had somehow managed to get in front of him in less than two seconds—and Jack rolled the ball quickly away from her swinging foot with the bottom of his cleat.

_One._

He dribbled forward a few steps, dodging another tall, brunet player on the other team by twisting around him. The player was good, Jack would give him that, but Jack had been playing soccer ever since he could toddle around on his legs. It would take a lot more than that to defeat him.

_Two._

While the forward and midfielders on the Black Dragons seemed to be quite skilled at defense, the actual defenders on the opposing team weren't as proficient. Jack saw their eyes widen at his quick speed and complicated maneuvers, and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

The defender coming up right in front of him seemed to shrink a little at Jack's approaching figure, but before the defender could even blink Jack had cut the ball, swerved around the player, and dribbled forward a few more feet.

_Three!_

He took another step back and sprinted forward, delivering the ball to Kim with a solid kick. The blonde captain had been inching up the field during this time and she steadied the ball with practiced movements, sneaking a glance around the field before simply aiming for the goal.

The goalie was nowhere near as excellent as Jerry; in fact, the ball had almost made it into the net and it was only stopped by the very tips of the goalie's gloves.

Oh, well, then this game should be pretty easy.

Jack saw Kim's face fall slightly at the failed attempt to score a goal. If she'd aimed it just a little bit higher or a degree wider, it most likely would have gone in.

But hey, they had an entire game left.

Jack watched as the goalie reared back before punting it, all the way to the midfield where Ricky and Donna had begun to sprint up to receive the ball.

Watching the blond and the redhead make their way up the field finally presented Jack with a reason to fear the Black Dragons.

The pair of captains worked seamlessly together, passing and dodging around players with a graceful ease that almost seemed comical. Julie came close to knocking it out from Ricky's feet once before the blond nearly shoved her down to the ground, and an outraged sound escaped Jack's throat before he watched, slowly jogging back, as Donna received the pass from Ricky, faked around Eddie, and took a shot at the goal.

Jack's mouth dropped open.

It went in.

Jack could hear the raucous, gruff cheering emanating from the Black Dragons' bench and the parents of the players yelling in appreciation, but all he could register was Jerry's crushed but determined expression, his own continuing awe at the perfection of Ricky and Donna's dribbling, and the hard realization that he'd severely underestimated his opponents.

It was one of Jack's biggest flaws—he got too arrogant, too self-righteous, and it came back to bite him in the ass. There was a reason the Wasabi Warriors had trained so much for this game, and it was because the two forwards on the other team were not to be reckoned with.

Jack tried to mentally gauge who was better—Jack, Grace, and Kim or Ricky and Donna.

It was hard to tell.

If this was what the rest of the game was going to be like, Jack already knew that he was going to have to prepare for war.

* * *

><p>Julie was no stranger to hard work. Being noticed required hard work, and all her life she'd tried her hardest to be noticed—by everyone, really. Her captain. Her soccer team. Her friends.<p>

Her parents.

This had to have been the hardest game she'd ever played in her life, though, and she had to admit that while the thrill of sprinting up and down the field and staying true to her position as the glue that joined the forwards and the defense gave her just as much of an adrenaline rush as it usually did, this time she wasn't exactly happy to be here.

Part of it stemmed from the fact that they were playing the Black Dragons—their single biggest rival in the entire soccer league. What stupid drama Kim had with Claire from Swathmore Academy didn't even compare to the animosity between the Wasabi Warriors and the Black Dragons. Also, considering all the events that had taken place last season, the former team was now determined to win, more than ever.

However, it was hard. The players with more confidence, such as Jack or Grace, fought the referees on every single call they made. Kim seemed to be subdued; she was playing as hard as she usually did in game, if not better, but Julie assumed that Kim was reeling from the fact that they were playing the _Black Dragons. _Her usual temper wasn't present.

Julie saw everything that was going down—it was true that the referees were tipping the scales in the Black Dragons' favor—but it also seemed to her that the team was a bit…afraid. Whether it was because of all the stupid drama they'd gone through last season or the fact that they were playing a team they knew from the beginning was going to put up a damn good fight, Julie could plainly tell that the Wasabi Warriors were distracted.

And that was not a good sign.

Not only were several of the Black Dragons physically taller and stronger in stature than the players on the Wasabi Warriors, they were playing rough, taking chances at actions that should have been counted as fouls but weren't, due to the referee's poor judgments and rulings.

Julie had seen the pure shock on Jack's face after he had witnessed the Black Dragons' first goal and she didn't blame him one bit. Ricky and Donna were two exceptionally talented players, she would give them that. No matter how skilled Jack was, there was no way to have prepared him for his first game against the Black Dragons.

However, no player was invincible. It was possible to hinder either one of those two captains, and Julie herself knew how. The entire team knew how, because they'd been doing it for so long. There were little strategies, tiny adjustments in their moves that would allow them to steal the ball or just kick it away, far enough up the field that the forwards could receive it.

The score was now tied—Grace had managed to get the ball in the goal after Jack had crossed it to Kim. Kim hadn't seen an open shot, and passed it back to Grace. With one swift kick, they'd tied the score.

A sharp blow of a whistle jerked Julie back to reality, and she assumed a defensive stance as Ricky went to retrieve the ball that had rolled out. Without bothering to defend Ricky—he was only throwing it in, anyway—she immediately sought out his equally destructive partner, Donna, trying to stay hidden behind her.

Naturally, Ricky threw it in to Donna.

Julie attacked.

As soon as Donna tapped the ball with her foot, Julie dived forward, kicking it out from under her and dribbling away. She weaved neatly around Ricky and was almost ready to pass it to Jack—

A sharp pain on her skull, and then she was hitting the ground.

Donna had actually _grabbed her ponytail_ and yanked her backwards, where Julie had lost balance and fallen _on the grass._

"_Foul!_" Julie heard Jack screaming, somewhere far, far away. Julie began to pick herself up, staring dazedly around everyone else. The Wasabi Warriors were all staring at her, some were mouthing words of encouragement, and some looked like they were going to fly into a rage. "Ref, that was totally a foul! You can't just let that go, Donna _pulled her ponytail_—_"_

While Jack continued to argue with the referee, Grace joined the fighting pair. Donna shoved herself away from Julie and accepted Ricky's outstretched hand, throwing a last smirk back at Julie and tossing her auburn ponytail in farewell before stalking away.

Fury started to burn inside Julie, but she kept it controlled. She couldn't let it overflow, but at the same time, well, _Donna had grabbed her and thrown her on the grass. _Julie didn't mind the pain—after all, it was temporary—but what angered her was the fact that Donna seemed to think she could push Julie around whenever she wanted during a game and that Julie would be too weak to fight back.

"Enough!" the referee standing closest to them screeched. "Continue play!"

Jack's eyes looked like they were about to bulge out of their sockets, but after two seconds of meaningless dribbling the center referee blew her whistle. "_Halftime!_"

The jog back to the bench wasn't painful, but it was slow. Several players converged around Julie, asking her how she felt and commenting that it was really a dirty trick. She accepted their pity with cold responses. She'd only been shoved down—what was their problem?

Julie could handle this.

Kim stepped around the bench and sat down, next to where Julie was absentmindedly squirting water on the grass. "How are you feeling?"

The next squirt from her water bottle was slightly harder, Julie's grip tightening on the hard plastic. "Fine. I just fell down, what's their problem? Jack was practically shoved down by Frank, and you were being bullied by Donna and Ricky the whole time!"

"I guess we're just a bit surprised that you're being so tough," Kim commented with a strained laugh.

Julie followed Kim's brown eyes, their gaze directed at Jerry, who was sitting by himself behind the bench.

"He's doing fine," Julie offered. "A bit rough at the beginning, but he hasn't let in another goal. Right?"

"Sure, the score's 1-1," Kim waved it off. "But I don't feeling like we're winning. And we _need_ to win. We're the Wasabi Warriors, we never lose—and we promised ourselves we wouldn't lose against the Black Dragons this season!"

Julie shrugged, "We don't always have to win, Kim. All of us want to, but maybe you focus on winning a little too much."

Kim's shoulders tensed at this last accusation and Julie now knew what Kim wanted.

Not only did Kim want to win, she wanted to show Donna and Ricky that she hadn't been broken by what had happened last season. That Kim was still a functioning player and that no matter what had happened she was still strong, she was still talented, and that she would still _win. _Kim wanted more than just a physical win—she wanted a personal one as well.

"Don't worry," Julie found herself saying. "You'll get it."

Kim looked taken aback. "Get what?"

Julie merely smiled.

* * *

><p>Desperation was a hard thing to judge. Everyone knew what it was—that wasn't the problem. The question was, <em>how much would you do?<em>

How far would you go in your desperation to win a game?

That, actually, was a very good question, and Jack found that throughout the entire second half, he'd been pondering that. This game—Wasabi Warriors versus the Black Dragons—was a dirty, underhanded one, no question about it. There was hair-pulling, shoving, yanking, tripping, elbowing, everything.

And the refs barely called a single thing.

The Wasabi Warriors had too much self-respect to resort to those kinds of methods, but apparently the Black Dragons had next to no morals. Jack could already feel his arms and legs forming bruises, courtesy of that large, hulking defender named Frank, and then there had been that obvious foul between Donna and Julie that had just gone by without a single consequence.

This was shaping up to be a really violent game.

And now, Jack wanted to win more than anything—and not just to prove that they were the better team without all those other methods, not just to prove that he was a damn good soccer player, but because _they were losing._

_They were losing._

It was true that they were only losing by one point, but all that mattered to Jack was the fact that the score was 2-1, and they weren't the 2. A penalty kick—a _penalty kick!—_had been awarded to the Black Dragons when a fight had practically started, right there on the field. Four girls—Grace, Kim, Kat, and Donna—had been arguing on the field about a foul when Kat had lost all control and actually slapped Donna.

It was like Jack was watching something from last season. Though he had never actually witnessed the legendary punch, he'd heard the story about how Kat had earned herself a red card for punching Ricky on the face the previous spring.

This time, Kat had managed to get off with a yellow card, but she'd been taken out of the game. The game was nearly over. There was still maybe about five minutes left in the half, and the Wasabi Warriors were losing.

_Losing._

The entire team seemed to be losing control now. They were making rash decisions, basing their choices off of their frustration instead of their fury, letting slip what dignity and cool confidence they had.

Jack started to back up in anticipation of Julie's impending pass. The midfielder had been barely fazed by the whole hair-pulling situation and was now playing harder than ever, and she dove forward, trying to get past Donna and Ricky—

Donna tripped her.

That, apparently, broke something in Julie. Jack was just about to say something to the referee when Julie's expression stopped him.

The midfielder rose, seemed to be steeling herself for something, her shoulders stiffening, and then, with a mighty spring, she tackled Donna.

Yes, she tackled her.

The two tumbled onto the grass, rolling over a few times before Julie gathered her balance. Julie was screaming something unintelligible as she straddled Donna and managed to hit her, but Jack could pick apart a few obscenities while the referee pried Julie off of Donna after only one punch. Donna pulled herself away, gasping and trying to right her ponytail, and then she lunged forward to hit Julie in retaliation.

The referee blocked it, wincing a bit as the punch found its mark on his back, and then Ricky tugged Donna away.

Jack found himself replaying the tackle, the two girls sprawling out onto the ground in a furious heap, rolling and tugging each others hair and trying to land punches. Julie's tackle had almost been as epic as Kat's slap.

By now, Rudy had switched Julie out and swapped Kyle back in, from where he'd been taking a short rest on the bench. He jogged up, blue eyes bright in the sunshine, with his jaw set and a tight nod at Jack.

"Time?" Jack called out to the referee before he could walk away.

The referee checked his stopwatch before calling out, "Three minutes!"

They had three minutes to get a goal.

Jack liked to say that nothing was impossible, but the cold, hard truth was that they had three minutes score. If they wanted to actually win instead of simply tie, they had to score _two_ goals.

Resolve solidified in Jack, and as Kyle lined up to throw the ball in, Jack darted out from behind an opposing player into the open. He received the soccer ball, felt familiarity rush through him, and pivoted, turning and sprinting forward, starting the one thing he knew so well—dribbling.

Jack neatly dodged a Black Dragon—from his limited knowledge of the other team, his name was Brian or something—and continued on, keeping an eye on his fellow teammates as well as his enemies.

_One…_

He was about halfway to the baseline, where he would cross it out to either Grace or Kim.

The next defender he faced, he tripped a bit, feeling the pull of the other girl's hand on his jersey. Jack twisted around, still trying to push forward, and freed his jersey, but not before the ball rolled out.

Dammit—the Black Dragons were just wasting time, trying to keep their lead for as long as possible, not letting Jack get to the goal! They were attempting to let the clock run out, because time was definitely on their side and not Jack's.

Another player threw it in, but Jack managed to steal it and continued to dribble forward, evading two or three players at once with a fake.

_Two…_

At the baseline, Jack was just about to turn around and cross it, winding up for a kick—

Why the hell was he flying through the air?

It turned out that Frank had practically tackled him, sending him flying two or three feet away from the ball, where he crashed into the grass before bouncing up again with fire dancing in his eyes.

While Frank had brute strength, he did not, however, have any skill whatsoever. The tall, burly player tapped the soccer ball with his foot and it rolled out. The ref didn't say anything about the obvious foul, but simply made a familiar hand gesture.

Corner kick.

There was less than a minute left now and Jack was beginning to feel that familiar desperation, setting up the ball at the corner and trying to decide where to aim it. The best they could hope for was a tie.

It was better than losing.

But not by much.

A rush of reassurance flooded through Jack as he prepared to kick it. His brown eyes sought out Kim. The blonde captain was sweaty her cheeks flushed red from all the exertion and the desperation and the stress.

If anyone could get this one in the goal, it was Kim.

Jack jerked his head, just the tiniest bit to the left, and Kim's eyes flickered in agreement.

He backed up a few steps and then sped forward, kicking it as hard as he could towards the empty space just a few feet to Kim's right.

_Three!_

He watched, almost as if it were in slow motion, as Kim practically dived for it, ducking out from under the player marking her and sprinting toward the open space, just outside the penalty box. It was a little farther away from the goal than Jack had hoped for, but it was good enough—Kim had a strong leg and accurate aim.

He watched, almost as if it were playing in slow motion, as Kim prepared to kick it—

_No!_

Somehow, Jack and Kim had both managed to overlook Frank, who had been hiding somewhere—a near impossible feat—and was now running straight toward Kim from behind, intending to stop her shot.

_"Shoot it!" _Jack screeched, desperate to warn her, tell Kim to hurry up before it was too late.

And it turned out that he _was _too late.

Just as Kim's foot was about to connect with the ball, Frank rammed into her back, toppling her off-balance and changing the direction of her aim.

To Kim's credit, she barely moved—she had been braced against anything, and she was a strong player despite her size—but Frank was nearly twice as strong as Kim and even as her foot impacted the ball, Jack knew it wasn't going to go in.

He forced himself to watch, though, as it nearly entered the goal.

It was just a _few inches_ wide.

The soccer ball bounced off of the pole, spinning out-of-bounds and rocketing off onto the field behind theirs, where some younger players dodged it frantically.

The entire field was silent.

A whistle blew.

The game ended.

They had lost.

* * *

><p>She stared at the goal.<p>

Simply stared.

It was hard to weigh or measure the portion of her world that she felt was caving in on her at this point, but she knew that it was crumbling fast, threatening to bury her alive, with the help of the disappointment and the guilt.

They'd lost.

_Because of her._

She'd moved through the post-game rituals with a numb feeling, not really registering her team's consolations or their statements that they didn't blame her. However, the cries and cheers of victory from the Black Dragons had been etched into her mind with an almost cruel clarity, so sharp and clear that it seemed to pierce her insides.

They'd lost, because she couldn't make her shot.

What was wrong with her? She was _known_ for her aim, her accuracy, her leg that could hit any target. The goal was several feet wide, and she hadn't even been that far out.

Why couldn't she have made it?

If it were any other game, maybe her brain would have registered that in normal circumstances, she would have made it, would have drilled that ball into the topmost corner of the goal where no goalie could have reached it.

So many things had been riding on her in this game—fear, desperation, anticipation, responsibility—that she'd cracked under all the pressure. She'd also been shoved from behind by Frank, been influenced by the time that had been quickly ticking down.

Kim refused to let herself make excuses for their loss and decided to blame herself.

The fields were now all pretty much barren, empty. The referees were taking some afternoon break or whatever, and all the teams had left—the Wasabi Warriors in slumped defeat and the Black Dragons in wholehearted ecstasy.

Kim hadn't gotten onto the bus. She'd said some words to the team, keeping her strong front up, unwilling to let them see her break down, and then walked away.

This failure was all on her.

Now she was the only one on the field, in front of the goal, standing at the exact same position she'd been in when she'd shot that last ball that had bounced off the goal post and gone out.

If she'd made it, they would have tied. They wouldn't have lost, they would have tied.

But she didn't make it.

Jerkily setting down her bag, she pulled out her own soccer ball and placed it shakily in front of her. With a mighty swing, she sent it into the goal.

The ball thumped down to the grass, several feet away from her.

_Goal._

A wave of dizziness took over her. Before she could fall to the ground, someone slid up behind her and caught her, holding her up, supporting her weight easily.

By now, she was familiar with the tall frame and she refused to let a single tear slip through her eyes. "What are you still doing here, Jerry?"

"Thinking," the goalie simply replied. Jerry set down his soccer bag down next to Kim's and slowly eased the two of them onto the grass. "You should have gone back to school with everyone else."

"And face more disappointment?" Kim whispered harshly. "Nah, I think I like surviving over here. Making the shot that I _should have made._"

"I let two goals in," Jerry shrugged, and though Kim could see he was trying to be light and comforting for her, he was still reeling from the emotional trauma he'd experienced during the game. "It's just as much my fault as it is yours."

Kim whipped around angrily. "No, it's not! You couldn't fix what you did, but I could have gotten us back at least one goal. I could have at least _tied the game._ And I didn't even do that. I failed. I missed a goal. We _lost,_ Jerry, and you know it!"

Jerry was silent.

"It's all my—"

"Don't," Jerry cut her off. "It's not!"

Kim took a deep breath and finally let the truth sink in, the words she spoke finally stabbing her with a pain that was impossible to replicate.

"It's all my fault."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the disappointing ending—hell, the disappointing _chapter._ This was definitely one of my weakest chapters, but I was desperate to get it out. **

**I have a big announcement to make, so listen (read?) up: There is a possibility that I will not be updating at all this summer, from about June 6th to the start of school. I am going to be vacationing in China in that time and I'm not sure if China allows FFnet because from what I remember last time I visited two years ago, they've blocked some American sites. I know that this is a worldwide site but I honestly don't know if I've ever seen anyone from China write on here. If it turns out that they've blocked it, I won't be able to respond to PMs, review, or, most importantly, update. POTENTIAL THREE-MONTH HIATUS COMING SOON****.**

**However, if it turns out that FFnet is allowed in China, I will still update, though my updates might come at random times during the day and they might come slower. If I can actually update in China, I'll have scared you all for nothing. But, there is a chance that I'll be on hiatus this whole summer—very sorry about that—so I'll warn you now. Spread the word around, in case some people don't read my A/Ns or infer from my very long hiatus. **

**If I don't happen to be on hiatus, you'll see from my next update on this story, which I hope is soon. I'd really hate to leave it off here.**

**Also, I have a summer story planned. Plenty of KICK, JACE, and MILLIE in it—so I hope I'll be able to publish and write it in China. SPOILER: It's AU!**

**Review!**


	12. The Aftermath Is Secondary

**A/N: Yes, this is an update, which means yes, I am in China and I will be able to write from here. I've been settling down for the past few days or so but my updates should come at a regular pace now, even if they take a while.**

**Thanks for so many reviews. Those of you who suggested I put this story up for adoption or find a co-writer in case I couldn't update this summer—it flatters me that you love this story but honestly, I would never do that. There are very talented writers in this archive but this is also my own story and I wouldn't want anyone else to write out this idea.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It. I also don't own the lyrics to the song mentioned in this chapter, but who does? **

* * *

><p>"<em>The minute you start talking about what you're going to do if you lose, you have lost." <em>

…

—_George Shultz_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER TWELVE: The Aftermath Is Secondary<strong>

_They were falling._

_It was strange how all of the other Wasabi Warriors were barely hanging on by their fingertips onto bits of rock, but Kim was the only person still on the ledge. She heard the screams, the pleas for help, and turned around, expecting to see someone else—Jerry, maybe or Milton, still on the ledge, willing to help her._

_No one._

_The screams grew louder, along with Kim's desperation, and she forced her dizzy body into motion, lurching to the edge and looking for the first person she could find, taking care not to slip herself._

_She met Kat's dark eyes, the brown orbs wild with fear and yet trying to look calm and in control, despite the fact that she was about to slip into nothingness, with no clue what waited for her at the bottom._

_Kim flung an arm out, trying to speed the process up so she could help the other Wasabi Warriors, and took notice of Kat's torn soccer uniform, the number that was slowly peeling off the front, and, trying to block out the screaming, reached for Kat's left hand._

_Kat looked at her gratefully, complete trust now dominating the fear previously in her eyes, and swung all her weight up, throwing out her left arm so Kim could grab it._

_Kim took it, peering forward, and screamed in horror._

_The bare forearm was scratched, torn and bloody, with the recent signs of purposely inflicted cuts. They were gushing blood, drawing trails of dark red down to her elbow, and as Kat jerked, trying to get a better grip on Kim's hand, droplets of blood hit Kim in the face._

_Kim screamed, yanking her hand away from Kat, and the latter fell, quickly disappearing from view into the chasm. _

_Another shriek, and she was gone._

_Kim choked, hardly daring to believe that one of her friends, one of her teammates, was actually just _gone_, but forced herself to move on._

_She had to save what she could._

_The next person she saw was Jerry and his eyes were closed, as if he were already welcoming death. His face was bruised, his arm broken and bandaged clumsily into a sling—she couldn't believe that he hadn't fallen already. _

_She desperately offered him a hand, searching for any will to live in his movements, and as her hand hit his face Jerry simply looked up at her._

"_I trusted you," he whispered, the pain in his voice nearly physically piercing Kim in the heart. "Look where it got me."_

_He let go of the edge, and he was gone._

_Kim screamed again, a tortured yell escaping her throat and rubbing it raw. Fear blurred her thoughts, and fury tinged the edges of her vision red. Spinning around quickly, she saw that more and more Wasabi Warriors were slipping from the edge and falling. Some protested on their way down, some didn't._

_Why couldn't she save any of them?_

"_This?" Kim heard from behind her. "This is what you did to them?"_

_Kim spun around in a tight spiral, staggering away from the edge and meeting the eyes of an attractive teenager. He'd somehow just suddenly appeared behind her, on the edge, where both he and Kim were still safe. His Wasabi Warriors uniform was crisp and new, the dark green somehow vivid, the white lettering almost blinding; it was a large contrast from the uniforms the other players were wearing, Kim herself included. He practically radiated blinding perfection, and yet there seemed to be something darker in his eyes._

"_You betrayed them?"_

_It took her a second to realize that she knew the player. _

"_Jack?"_

_A sickening crunching sound forced her to turn away from the brunet, but once she whirled around again to meet him, he was gone._

_Kim stumbled a few more feet to her right, and as she leaned over the edge, she met Milton's intelligent blue eyes, the orbs darting back and forth from the ledge._

"_It's impossible for you to save me," Milton stated, his usual analytical tone matter-of-fact._

_Kim's jaw dropped open at his blatant surrender. "What? No, Milton! Just grab my hand, okay? Come on, here, I'll pull you up—"_

"_Nah," he murmured with a scarily peaceful smile, as if he were experiencing some dream, or maybe a fantasy. "Just take this, okay?"_

_Somehow, the midfielder had mustered enough strength to hold onto a chunk of rock with his left hand and reach deep into his pocket with his right. His fingers scrabbled around in the torn, dark green fabric of his soccer shorts for a moment, before closing around something and tossing it up to the ledge where Kim was still kneeling, the blonde not daring to reach for him in case she fell herself._

_If she fell, then everyone was doomed._

_The object flew a few feet behind her, and she scrabbled to retrieve it, curious as to what it was._

_It was a bottle…?_

_Now full to the brim with confusion, she ran back to the side, but he was gone._

_Everyone was gone…_

_Except for one. _

_A figure suddenly appeared beneath her—tall, blond, lean, but still sweating from the effort of holding on. His eyes were pleading and at the same time, confident, as if he knew she would pull him up with no questions asked._

_It was Ricky. _

"_Hi, Kim," the soccer player greeted her, seemingly unperturbed. "Pull me up, won't you?"_

_Kim spluttered in anger. "Save you? Why the hell would I do that? You…you—"_

"_Come on," Ricky implored. "You already let everyone else die. Kat. Jerry. Milton. All your teammates, all your friends. You let them all down. Don't you want to at least walk away with one victory?"_

_Kim sat back on her heels, unsure of what to do._

"_Do you hear that?" Ricky asked her after a moment, and indeed she did hear it—a song that she hadn't dared to play ever since last season, because while it once held good memories, now it held bad ones…_

_It was echoing up from the bottom of the chasm, the sounds stretching out, but she could still make out the words._

_The tune grew louder and louder until Kim shrieked, covering her ears, willing to do anything to just get it out of her head. The memories started playing in fast forward, a thousand pictures and clips collecting in her mind until a high keening sound reached her ears—her own voice, screaming, begging for it to stop._

"_Run baby run,  
><em>_Don't ever look back,  
><em>_They'll tear us apart  
><em>_If you give them the chance…_

_Don't sell your heart,  
><em>_Don't say we're not meant to be  
><em>_Run baby run,  
><em>_Forever will be,  
><em>_You and me…"_

"_If you take my hand, it'll stop."_

_As if another power was pushing her hand down, she slowly offered him her hand, now unsure of her motives._

_All that registered in her mind was that she needed to save someone—anyone._

_It soon turned out to be her fatal mistake. As soon as Ricky caught her hand, he yanked her over the edge with surprising strength, bracing his feet on the narrow strip of rock he'd somehow managed to find support on, and now she was the one clinging on for dear life._

_He was going to let her go, and she was going to fall._

"_Ricky—I trusted you!" Kim managed to spit out. Tears finally started pouring from her eyes, and she looked around, at the sheer emptiness of the horrible place, at all her teammates that had fallen because she couldn't save them._

"_I'd say I'm sorry…but I'm not."_

_His grip on her hand disappeared._

_And as Kim fell, she could have sworn she saw the eyes of a dragon, blinking at her, no trace of remorse in its eyes._

* * *

><p>Kim woke up screaming.<p>

She bolted upright in bed, checked her surroundings, and felt her face. Her hands probed her skin, her cheeks sticky with tear tracks. A major headache pounded the inside of her skull and she nearly cried out again, this time in pain instead of mental torture.

Her vision blurred—either from tears or from dizziness, she couldn't tell them apart—and she fell back onto her pillow as a wave of exhaustion came over her, nearly pulling her under the surface.

She managed to twist her head to the side and cast a glance at Grace, who was facing the opposite wall, still asleep despite the loud manner in which Kim had woken herself up. Grace's long brown hair was tangled and spilled all over the pillow like a waterfall, cascading down and reaching toward the floor.

After a long minute, Kim finally sat up again and put her head between her knees, trying to collect herself and trying to recall everything, why she was feeling so confused…

Reality came rushing back to her with the force of a train.

Yesterday's game. How she could have tied the game but instead missed an easy shot and let the entire team down yet again, her worst fear finally materializing this season. How she'd let Ricky and Donna get to her, get under her skin when she'd resolved to just ignore them. How she'd finally returned to the campus late at night with Jerry after they'd just rode buses all over the city, unwilling to go back to school. How she'd nearly cried herself to sleep.

Maybe she had cried herself to sleep—there were tear tracks on her face, after all.

Her nightmare…

This was it. She couldn't face more failure, she couldn't bear to let her friends and her teammates down one more time. She had to do something about this and do it quickly.

Rolling out of bed, she ignored the stabbing headache that refused to lift and scrambled for some clothes, checking the time in the process. It was late morning and from the looks of it, there weren't many people outside. After splashing her face with cold water, attempting to erase most of the tear tracks, she ran a brush hurriedly through her hair and sprinted out of the room.

The campus was mostly deserted except for a few students in the lower grades. They shot her confused glances, and she didn't even bother to glare at them, just shoving past them and making her way to the athletics wing.

She was so preoccupied in her thoughts that she didn't even notice when she ran straight into someone.

This time, it was Jack exiting the dining hall and it was Kim who knocked into him—quite a reversal from the first time they had met, when Jack had rammed into her. Jack seemed to have more balance than her and managed to catch them both, his warm hands grabbing her shoulders and righting her before she could collapse to the ground.

"Whoa, Kim—are you okay? You look like a zombie…"

Despite her somber mood and her depressing mission, she managed a glare at him, "Shut up. I'm not exactly trying to win a beauty pageant today, I have something more important to do than make myself look pretty."

Jack's eyes widened at her snappy tone and the brown orbs flicked apprehensively down to her hands, which were clutching pieces of dark green fabric. She tried to hide them before he noticed, but to no avail. "What are you doing with your jersey? Where are you going?"

"Rudy's office," she spat out before shoving past him.

Being the relentless person that he was, he jogged lightly to keep pace beside her. "Wait…what are you doing, then?"

"If I tell you, will you shut up and go away?"

"Sure," Jack seemed calm despite her extremely rude tone.

"I'm resigning," Kim gritted through her teeth before spinning away from his shocked expression and continuing on her journey. She tossed carelessly back to him, "You can have my spot!"

"Wait, as captain? You're resigning from the _team_?" Jack shouted incredulously after her.

Kim managed an eye-roll, keeping her stare in front of her instead of giving Jack the satisfaction of looking back at him. "No, Jack. I'm resigning from the chess club. Checkmate, you've won."

"Wait—_Kim! Kim!_"

Suddenly she was being backed up against a wall, and Jack was right in front of her—and by right in front of her she meant _right in front of her_—their faces were centimeters apart. A wave of heat coursed its way through her cheeks and she stiffened at the closeness, staring up at him, not daring to breathe.

What an odd reaction.

She probably could have gotten away; Jack was barely even touching her—it was just something about him, the confident façade that he projected, that made Kim want to stay, to listen to his words.

"What?" Kim muttered after unsuccessfully trying to erase the blush in her cheeks.

Jack's brown eyes were intense as he stared hard into her eyes, his tone more serious than she had ever heard it before. "Don't you even _think_ about resigning."

"I…I…don't tell me what to do—"

Her breathing failed her, and she sank down to the ground, feeling a tad bit lightheaded due to their close proximity. His mere presence seemed to have eased her pounding headache, but the spinning hadn't stopped—in fact, her dizziness seemed to have increased. The world seemed to be tilting just the tiniest bit, tipping sideways…

"I need to," she mumbled.

Jack slid down the wall next to her and breathed out shakily, relief evident in his voice. "No, you don't. You made a mistake. Everyone does. It doesn't mean that you're not good enough, or that—"

"But that's my point," Kim argued, wondering how her original mission had been derailed so quickly by the brunet sitting next to her. "I'm not _supposed_ to make mistakes. I'm a soccer captain, I can't fail everyone like that! I'm _not_ good enough—you are, though, maybe you can take my spot—?"

It was odd how she'd held her position as captain so dearly to her chest at the beginning of the season, and now she was willing to give it away. Although the thought of Jack taking over her position made her a bit sick to the stomach, she grudgingly admitted to herself that he was the most capable player on the team to serve as captain.

"Kim, look at me."

She raised her eyes, and immediately felt as if she were sinking into a pool of melted chocolate. "What?"

"Don't resign as captain. We need you, okay?"

Jack leaned closer after she didn't bother to respond, and for a wild, random second, she thought they were about to kiss. "Kim, you can't resign. You're the most proficient player on this team. Who else were you planning to take your place? I don't want you to quit, so I would never take the position out of respect. Jerry? He's busy dancing half the time and breaking down the next…Milton is too focused on his studies, Kat would flip out at the team all the time, Grace would kill us with her sass, and Eddie would just ramble on and on about—"

"Okay, I get your point," Kim grumbled, disbelief still clouding her thoughts. "Fine, I won't resign…for now…I can't believe you're doing this to me…"

"What?" Jack finally grinned, a smirk curving up the corners of his lips. "Seducing you into not doing this?"

"Yeah, _Edward Cullen,_" Kim slapped his shoulder, her tone sarcastic. "The reason I'm not resigning is _totally_ because you're so hot you're making me melt."

"Challenge completed," Jack smiled back at her, and she leaned against the wall and breathed in deeply.

She couldn't fathom how Jack had turned a situation so serious into something…amusing, just with his words and his actions. She'd been so depressed this morning and now they were…flirting? Not flirting, but…?

Maybe she'd resign later, when there _wasn't_ a certain brunet waiting to stop her every move.

Damn seduction.

* * *

><p>His body ached, his head pounded, and the world seemed to be tilting slightly to the left as Milton wrenched open his dorm room and staggered inside. Practice had been more brutal than usual and he felt as if he'd been used as a punching bag back in fifth grade again. His legs seemed to be made of jelly and his arms were limp, barely able to support the weight of his soccer bag.<p>

Milton cast a glance around the dorm room and sighed—Eddie had probably gone straight to dinner. Milton would have eaten his evening meal as well, but today's especially long practice had taken away from his already limited time designated for finishing the mountain of homework that was slowly piling up. Milton was in all honors classes and though he usually excelled at them, it was getting a little bit harder than usual to complete everything.

He sat down at his desk with a jerky _thud,_ that one motion sending his brain into disarray again. Exhaustion did negative numbers on Milton's mind, and his eyes flickered down to his desk drawers.

Milton twitched nervously.

It was so _tempting…_

_To be or not to be, that is the question…_

So then it wasn't a question of right or wrong, of morals, of potential health risks? It wasn't good versus evil or defying temptation to stay innocent? It had nothing to do with the harm it could inflict on him later on? It was simply _to be or not to be_?

Damn Shakespeare.

Well, Milton had always been more of a chemistry guy, anyway.

His blue eyes narrowed as he stared longer and longer at his desk, the ocean-colored orbs flicking back and forth between his overlarge backpack and the drawer that was so tempting to open, he could already visualize his hand moving towards it.

_No._

_Don't do it._

A hand involuntarily snapped out from his side and gripped an arm of his desk chair, clutching it as if it were his lifeline, the knuckles turning a bone white as he struggled to collect his thoughts. His hand released and his freshly washed head fell into his open palm as he nearly tore his hair out, trying to make the decision.

_To be or not to—_

He cursed himself for being so weak, for giving in.

_Be._

Then his hand reached out, slid open the desk drawer, and pulled out the bottle.

* * *

><p>The easy manner Jack had managed to induce in Kim seemed to have abated since Sunday morning. Kim still attended classes, and she didn't look like as much as a zombie as she had that first day after the game, but there was something incredibly off about her. Her eyes seemed to be dead, even during practices, and she hadn't dared to make one shot this entire week.<p>

Jack didn't believe in any kind of weird spiritual religion, but if he had to use one phrase to describe it, he would have said that her aura was off.

The team as a whole was doing okay, in Jack's opinion. There was no doubt that they were all a bit wounded by their loss on Saturday, but they seemed to have managed to pick themselves back up and throw themselves back into practices with a renewed vigor after the first couple of days. They'd won their most recent game, but strangely, Kim hadn't seemed the least bit happy.

Jack was optimistic that their last game against the Black Dragons would be in their favor. It didn't matter if the other team played dirty—if the Wasabi Warriors kept their cool, then they would win. Last time, they'd let the underhanded tricks get to them and that had managed to tip the scales in the Black Dragons' favor.

It was night when he saw her yet again.

He was pondering his homework in his room, pointedly avoiding the family history project in case he lost control and actually punched something—or someone. He was going crazy trying to keep everything about his father's past a secret, but it was proving hard as they had to work on their project every single day in class. Jerry was already in bed—he was sleeping early these days—and Jack had just raised his head and looked out the window when he saw her.

After a second's consideration, he swung his blazer off of his chair and headed out the door.

The night was unusually cold, but there she was, blond ponytail swinging back and forth as she aimed again and again at the multiple soccer balls positioned in front of the goal, each ball hitting in the exact same spot at the net.

He noticed that she stood in the very spot from where she'd missed that one last shot against Seaford, rooted to the exact position on the field, shooting again and again at the goal as if trying to replay the moment, as if making ten thousand balls in the goal right now would somehow compensate for the crucial one that she'd missed.

Jack didn't understand how Kim didn't appear to be cold—sure, she was exercising, but Jack was wearing twice as much as her and she wasn't even shaking. Sweat rolled down her forehead, and a cold breeze whipped through the campus, but she didn't show any sign of weakness.

As he approached her, he continued to observe her shots. They continued to decrease in accuracy, becoming sloppier and sloppier, until she was finally missing the goal completely, just swinging at the balls blindly and clenching her fists in frustration.

When the last ball had flown from underneath her right foot, the ball missing the goal by twenty-something feet, she flopped down to the grass, a defeated heap, and wrapped both hands firmly over her mouth. Jack had the faint idea that she wanted to shriek, wanted to scream as loud as she could, but couldn't for fear of giving herself away this late at night. He watched as she stared at the net, as if it held answers.

"Are you okay?"

Kim twisted around in surprise from where she'd been uprooting grass at a furious speed, the blades of green tearing themselves free from her slender fingers and floating away in the wind. She picked herself off the ground slowly, crossing her arms as Jack covered the remainder of the distance between them, ending up right in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped. Her cold tone implied that she was not in the mood for babying or comfort. "You should be in bed. It's after curfew."

"Oh," Jack countered cheekily. "And what about you?"

He politely ignored the tear tracks on her face that were now drying in the cold wind. The edges of her eyes were rimmed red, something Jack thought he would never see in his life—Kimberly Crawford actually crying. She was obviously at one of her weakest points right now, and feeling angry and upset, and if Jack had any common sense he would have left her alone.

What was that saying? Twenty seconds of insane courage a day was good for you?

Well, then, Jack was using those twenty seconds of insane courage right now. After all, it did take a lot of insane courage to talk back to Kim Crawford, right?

Then again, Jack didn't think that he actually feared her.

Her dark eyes pierced his for a long moment before she replied, "That's different. I need to practice."

"And you don't think I need to practice?" Jack raised his eyebrows questioningly as he absentmindedly adjusted the sleeves of his dark green blazer.

"You?" Her laugh was sardonic and bitter. "You're the perfect little boy on this team. I swear, every girl on the soccer team wants to date you, every guy wants to be you. You don't need to practice."

There was another lengthy silence before she demanded, "What _are_ you doing out here?"

"My purpose for being out here…is to figure out why _you're _out here," Jack shrugged nonchalantly.

"I need to practice," she stated with a roll of her eyes.

"_You? You_ need to practice? Kim, you're the perfect captain."

"Yeah," she snorted humorlessly, brown eyes sarcastic and vindictive as she continued. "Yeah, I'm the perfect captain that lets her team down at the last moment in a crucial game and misses an easy shot. I'm the captain that nearly _quit_ after she couldn't take a failure that in my opinion, is still way too big. I'm the captain that had to be convinced to keep my spot by _you!_"

It was Jack's turn to laugh—and he did, though it was incredulous and strained instead of genuinely amused. "Is that what this is about? That one last shot? It's _still_ about that?"

"What do you think?" she retorted swiftly.

"I think—well, let's start off with what I _know._ I _know_ that you've been coming out here every single night for the last five nights and shooting at the goal. You're always tired in school and you aren't focusing nearly as much during practices. We won a game last weekend and you didn't even bother to smile…"

"Stalker, much?"

Jack chose to ignore her epigram and pressed on. "Every night, you're shooting from the exact same spot for twenty minutes—the very spot where you missed the goal at the end of the game against Seaford. And I think you're trying to recreate that moment."

Kim's chin jerked up defensively. "And what if I am?"

"You don't need to. The moment's passed, it's moved on, and so should you."

"Well, I can't. Not until I can re-do that goal."

Jack tightened his fists in frustration; this conversation was going nowhere. "Kim, you have great aim. You just weren't lucky. You have the best shooting accuracy on this team!"

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!" Jack instinctively grabbed her shoulders, restraining himself from shaking her repeatedly back and forth to prove his point even further. "Don't let us down, Kim. You're the captain of this team. You need to act like it."

Her gaze immediately shifted down at those words, and she flinched away from his touch, wriggling out from underneath his hands. "I won't be for much longer."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"…If we lose our last game against Seaford Prep, I'm resigning. For _real_ this time. Next season, you can have my spot, or Jerry."

"_What?_"

"I'm not much of a captain if I can't lead you guys to victory, am I?"

"Kim, you're a good captain," Jack whispered. His voice was now so soft that he was almost positive the wind had carried the words away and she hadn't heard them. Regardless of whether Kim had heard his compliment or not, he believed it and he meant it. Though she was tough on them sometimes, Kim was one of the best leaders he'd ever seen.

"Then why did we lose?" Kim retorted immediately, as if those five words were a solid, bulletproof argument.

Jack rubbed his right temple. He couldn't believe that Kim was being this hard on herself—was it even humanely possible to assign this much guilt and blame on a single person, especially yourself? Everyone made mistakes—so why couldn't Kim get over hers and move on already?

Jack exhaled, "This is going to sound cliché, but being a good captain isn't just about winning. It's about doing what's right and trying your hardest. No one on the team blames you for the loss, Kim. You're being too hard on yourself."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I need to!"

_"Why?"_

"I," Kim began in a low, dangerous tone, "Hate Seaford Prep more than anything. They've always been undefeated. Even my perfect older sister, who was the captain of the soccer team years ago, couldn't beat them."

"Your older sister?"

Jack didn't miss her flinch, but her voice remained steady as she replied, "Yeah, Courtney."

Kim's breath hitched at this point and she averted her eyes, hurriedly filling the silence with something quick, "She looks like me but with green eyes, perfect smile, textbook gorgeous. She's a model—she's that pretty. Actually, she's prettier than me, smarter than me, more successful than me…well, she _was…_"

"I think you're pretty," Jack muttered distractedly under his breath before he realized what he'd uttered.

Kim, fortunately, had been caught in a memory or something and hadn't heard his exact words. "What did you say?"

"Nothing, go on."

Kim smiled dryly. "Yeah…the one thing that she's ever failed at was to beat Seaford Prep at the chance to go to the state playoffs. Even perfect little Courtney couldn't do that. So that's what I'm going to try for."

"Anything else?" Jack wondered out loud.

Now Kim seemed to have no reservations. "I hate Donna Tobin. With all my heart."

Jack smirked. "I can't imagine why…"

A smile tugged at Kim's lips, before it twisted into a grimace. "She reminds me of my sister—a bit meaner, though. Courtney was never mean, she was just too perfect. Donna's mean _and_ seemingly perfect."

"I think I'd prefer you over Donna as a captain, Kim," Jack shrugged genuinely.

"Gee, thanks. That means a lot."

Jack held his hands up innocently. "What? In my eyes, you're closer to perfect than Donna, or even Courtney, whom I've never even met!"

At this, Kim's eyes widened before flicking towards the ground. "Um…thank you?"

"Please try to forgive yourself," Jack whispered, his tone sobering. "Because you really should. We'll kick the Black Dragons' asses the next game, okay?"

Kim laughed, though it was a bit strained. "Sure."

"So," Jack smiled. "Are you going to go to bed now or not? We can't exactly have a captain that's dead on her feet if we want to win our next games…"

The blonde managed to grin a tiny bit. "Yeah, I'll go to bed. I just need to put everything away."

"Do you want help?" Jack offered, already beginning to move towards the soccer balls.

Kim shook her head vigorously. "No, no, it's okay. I need some time to think about things. I'll get them all…besides, you're not the one that lost all control and flipped out and took your anger out on inanimate objects."

"If you're sure…"

She nodded decisively. "I am."

As Jack was crossing the soccer field, he heard, "Jack!"

He whipped around. "Yeah?"

Kim was currently balancing a soccer ball between her elbow and her hip, and she bit her lip before muttering, "Thank you."

"For what?" he laughed breezily. "All I did was talk."

A full smile stretched across the captain's face now. "Exactly. Thank you."

And without another word, she turned around and continued to pick up soccer balls.

* * *

><p>On another side of the campus, Grace West was staring at her phone.<p>

Simply staring.

She bit down on her bottom lip so hard that it nearly split and bled, and once again her eyes swiveled over to Kim's vacant bed. The blonde was once again out on the fields late at night, breaking curfew and practicing soccer obsessively.

Grace loved the sport but honestly, Kim took it way too seriously.

The text seemed to be burned on the inside of her eyelids, the light from her phone flashing before her closed eyes like strobe lights at a club. Even when she was supposed to be seeing absolutely nothing, she could still read words.

Words that she never wanted to read again.

She forced herself to look back down at her phone, unsure of how to respond to her older sister's urgent text. Grace's older sister was currently home from college and apparently, things had been different around the house when it was only their parents home together. Grace's older sister was at college, and of course Grace was at private school.

The words blurred, and she only caught snatches of the original text.

_Mom—affair—divorce—fighting—fault?_

Her lower lip trembling, Grace stood up shakily and started to pace back and forth. Despite the late hour, she felt as if she'd been injected with pure adrenaline.

How was this happening _again_?

Grace had nearly snapped in half the last time something like this had occurred, back in fifth grade, and she did not want another round of _let's see what will break Grace faster!_ Her junior year at Bobby Wasabi was supposed to be careful yet fun. She was supposed to play with the soccer team, focus on her studies, keep her old friends, make new ones.

She was _not_ supposed to deal with this.

Practically vibrating now, she once again glared at Kim's empty bed. Who else could she talk to? Julie? Probably studying, even at this late hour. She wasn't that friendly with Milton though the soccer team was all one big family; the two simply didn't mix. Kat would probably snap at her, and Grace wouldn't blame her one bit, not after realizing what she might have been doing to herself. Things were awkward between Grace and Eddie, so the latter wasn't an option.

The original person she thought of talking to after Kim swam to the front of her mind and she squeezed her eyes shut. What if he was sleeping? Or he was busy? Or he didn't want to talk to her?

She was desperate.

She needed to talk.

Grace snatched her phone from the surface of her bed and, without looking at the text, dialed a number that had become familiar after she'd needed to use it so many times.

"Hey, um, Jerry? Sorry, were you sleeping? Wait, you weren't? I'm really sorry for calling you so late but I really need to talk to someone and you're the first person I thought of…can I come over or something?"

* * *

><p>The next day, Jack was dispatched by his English teacher to go deliver a note to the front office. He took the opportunity gratefully, because they were currently working on their family projects.<p>

It was best to get out of the classroom.

As he was pushing through the glass doors of the main office, he caught a glimpse of the trophy case.

The trophy case was glimmering with several sports trophies in different areas—but mainly soccer. Jack's eyes scanned over all the different teams over the years, until he drew back, surprised, as he came across a girl that looked almost _exactly_ like Kim—the difference was in their eyes. Kim's were several shades darker than this player's grass green ones.

_Courtney Crawford,_ the caption read. _Captain of the Wasabi Warriors, 2005-2006. Placed second place in the district. __  
><em>

Jack didn't see how Courtney was prettier than Kim—they looked almost exactly the same. However, while they were both attractive, Kim had this kind of…personality that shone around her figure. Courtney, while she was beautiful, seemed blank. No emotions. Kind of like a cardboard cutout that you would see at a mall, or a doll, not like an actual living human being.

Jack thought back to how Kim had stiffened up when she'd mentioned Courtney the previous night and then how she'd said, in the gym that rainy day a few weeks ago, how she knew what it felt like to go through family problems.

_Could it be…?_

Jack pushed the thought out of his mind. Besides, he didn't know for sure if Kim was even talking about Courtney and if she was, Jack couldn't even begin to assume what was wrong with Courtney.

Still, though, as he left the office, he couldn't help comparing three girls that all aimed to be perfect: Kim, Donna, Courtney.

Kimberly Crawford was the only girl he'd ever seen that had even come close to perfection.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Because I didn't…I lied in my A/N last chapter. THIS was my weakest chapter yet. Not only is it filler, it's poorly written because I wanted to get it out for you guys ASAP. So, sorry if it didn't live up to your expectations…**

**The nightmare was my favorite part to write and I wrote the majority of it on a train. Kim's nightmare was actually pretty symbolic and there are hints to everyone else's plotlines if you look closely enough…**

**I also added some more KICK in there for you rabid shippers. Are you happy now? You know, you could reward me with reviews…;) However, I felt that they were poorly planned and too cliche. Damn.**

**I am now almost halfway through this story and although I know the end is still pretty far off, I've planned two more companions to this story—a sequel and a prequel. The sequel features the next season with some additional characters and the continuation of everyone's plotlines, and the prequel explains everything these characters are going through, and why—by the end of this story, you'll understand the things mentioned about last season, like the Kim/Jerry/Ricky plotline, but in the prequel I will be writing it out in detail. It will be a documentation of their previous season and all the drama that happened then.**

**I'm just curious, which one would you guys like to read more after I finish this? The story titles, as of right now, are "Evolution" and "Victory In Sight". Leave your answer in a review, I want to know which one I should start planning in more detail. **

**It's simple, just click that button down there. Reviews are appreciated, they're like drugs to me.**


	13. Damage Control

**A/N: Damn, guys, we hit 200 reviews. You guys really know how to flatter me. All I have to say is: thanks, and keep them coming. ****Sorry this chapter took so long, I've been busy with school. However, exams are over on Thursday and then I'll be free to write this entire summer...I hope...**

**NOTICE: Have you guys seen the new cover for this story? Yeah, that awesome one? An awesome author and a really cool friend of mine, sleepuntiltomorrow, made that. Yeah, she designed it, and sent it to me. She's amazing, go check her out. THANKS EM!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p><em>"Soccer is not about justice. It's a drama—and criminally wrong decisions against you are part and parcel of that."<em>

_…_

_—Pete Davies_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Damage Control<strong>

When he woke up, he immediately knew something was wrong.

The first thing that tipped him off was that Jerry's bed was empty. Usually on the weekends it was up to Jack to wake up the goalie, as the latter was incredibly lazy, but Jerry was nowhere to be seen within the sheets.

Jack propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, checking the time—late morning. Jack usually never slept this late on weekends and he was a little puzzled to why he'd been allowed to sleep this much. Usually someone would have alerted him to a emergency soccer practice or some other crisis that needed to be fixed by now.

And yet, he'd slept in today…?

He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong as he dressed for the day, but he tried to dismiss it from his mind. Dwelling on his instincts usually worked out in his favor and yet all he wanted to do was go to breakfast.

Food overpowered gut feelings this morning.

_What else did he have to do today?_ There was a game in a couple of hours, he needed to catch up on his homework, and…

He opened his dorm door and was met directly with Kim's surprised and yet wary eyes. Almost involuntarily, he jumped back a few inches. Normally the corner of Kim's mouth would have at least twitched in a smile but her face was completely solemn.

This was probably the first time he had ever seen Kim in the boys' dorm and he was a little more than simply shocked. Plus, there was also the fact that she'd been standing _right_ outside his door, as if she'd been waiting for him. She couldn't have been waiting for Jerry—like he'd already noted, the goalie had gotten out of bed earlier than Jack today and had yet to show up again.

"Hey…Kim?" Jack asked, slightly confused. "Everything okay? Why aren't you at breakfast? Did you already eat?"

"Jack," Kim whispered, her voice uncharacteristically gentle, the hard edge replaced by a softened one. "Uh…"

Her dark eyes seemed to be focused on something behind him but as soon as she saw that he'd noticed this little fact, she quickly returned her brown gaze to his, continuing to stutter, as if stalling for time. "Uh…?"

"What?"

After another shifty glance, Jack whipped around to face his closed dorm room door and immediately sought out what she'd been trying so hard to avoid looking at—a packet, taped to the door, just waiting to be read.

For some reason, Kim didn't want him to notice it.

What the…?

He reached for it, ignoring Kim's attempts to block his hand, and read the title—

It was _The Article_.

The one that documented everything, an exact replica of the same sheets Jack had printed out in the library a few weeks ago.

Jack practically ripped it from the door, the tape tearing with a loud, cacophonic sound, and read the specially attached note. His brown eyes scanned over the blue Post-It with a sickening feeling.

**Like father, like son, right? No? I guess we'll see, won't we, Jackie? Have fun…and by the way, something you should know—or maybe you already know this—NEWS TRAVELS FAST.**

_—**A Friend xxx**_

His mind went blank for a long minute, the thoughts simply disappearing, and he gaped at Kim, wondering how much she knew, trying not to let the panic overwhelm him. "What the hell? Did…did you…?"

"Not me," she clarified. "I would never, I didn't even know. But…Jack, I'm sorry, there's one more thing…"

"What?" Jack's breathing was shallow by now, air barely getting through to his lungs as he watched the captain of the soccer team's face with bated breath. He tried to force his brain to work again, to get the synapses firing again, but it was like that part of his body had simply died.

Kim bit her lip. "Don't go to the dining hall. Or, rather, anywhere—"

_No, no, no!_

Jack took off like a rocket, ignoring the blonde's protests and her attempts to stop him from leaving his dorm.

He had to see.

* * *

><p>"Damn," Grace whistled, her breath warm against Jerry's ear. "This is going to be complete hell for Jack once he finds out…you let him sleep in, right?"<p>

Jerry found it a little hard to think straight with Grace sitting so closely to him but he managed to focus on the crisis at hand, his eyes once again scanning the cafeteria to find all of the students' eyes on the soccer team's table. "Yeah, I thought he should at least get rest while he could. Do you think he's figured it out yet?"

Grace seemed to be considering this as she twirled her fork, spinning the scrambled eggs that remained on her plate. She'd had that plate of breakfast for about three hours now, ever since they'd woken up, and she hadn't bothered to eat a single thing. "I don't know. Kim went to head him off…"

This had to be one of the biggest disasters Jerry had ever witnessed—and that included the Ricky Disaster from last season.

The previous night, several hundred copies of one particular news article had quickly made their way throughout the school, the packets mysteriously appearing on every single dorm room door and taped up in the school lockers, in the hallways, on bathroom stalls, everywhere. The intruders had barely been caught on the school systems and the students had woken up to all this propaganda practically floating in front of their eyes.

Even the identity of the intruders wasn't the biggest issue right now.

It was what the article contained.

Jerry knew Jack was an inherently good person. In fact, Jerry was almost positive that Jack had never done a single bad thing in his life…but unfortunately, his father had done lots of things in his life.

Well, before it had ended.

The article that had been duplicated and then spread throughout the school at a rapid pace was a report from the Dallas Morning News, detailing Jack's father's history of crime, his identity, his history with Jack's family, and finally his ultimate death a few months ago. Jerry now knew why Jack was always touchy when the subject of the family history project popped up during breaks at the water cooler during practice and Jerry couldn't blame him.

Jerry was not the type to judge anyone—but that didn't mean others were. He knew for a fact how cruel others could be.

Something unsettled him, though: there was a photo of Jack's father on the article. The resemblance between him and Jack was striking. Jack seemed to be a younger version of the man staring up at Jerry at this very moment, but the difference was in their eyes—Jack's were a warm, deep brown while Jack's father's were a cold, flat ice-blue.

He still couldn't see how a man as destructive as Jack's father could produce someone as altruistic and as genuine as Jack. Jack seemed to be everything his father wasn't and if Jerry had read the article correctly (his dyslexia had been acting up this morning), Jack and his mother had also been abused.

Damn. No wonder Jack was so strong. He was the type to bounce back from history, but there was no doubt that his own history had left scars, hidden to the world, like clothing covering up faded marks.

To top it off, as if the article popping up hadn't been enough, it seemed that nearly every single student in the entire school knew about it and not only had the knowledge but was gossiping about it. Those who didn't know Jack personally—either the students in the lower grades or the twelfth grade—were whispering about Jack's father and whether psychotic breakdowns were hereditary and/or genetic. The soccer team had gone from being respected despite the loss against Seaford to a place that seemed to house insane people.

To the outside eye, it may have seemed like it—the soccer team currently contained a cutter, a perfectionist, a workaholic, a depression-ridden player, a player that was still reeling from the past, and several with family problems.

Wonderful.

Not a single soccer player had dared to move from the cafeteria this morning. Once the teachers had heard of the scandal, they'd started confiscating all the articles and taking them down from the lockers, but their pace was slow and there was no doubt that several students still possessed hidden copies. Plus, they still hadn't managed to scour the dorms or the dining hall. There was a copy of the article on every single dorm room door.

Shit, Jerry had forgotten to take his down. Jack would see it, unless Kim got to it first.

Now they were waiting for Jack.

Jerry jerked in surprise when Grace slowly leaned her forehead against his shoulder, but relaxed once the tension released from her shoulders. They'd been talking a lot more recently and Jerry knew they were both desperate for comfort, especially after this disaster. Plus, he found himself kind of satisfied that at least one person in this school had at least a somewhat detailed idea of what he was going through.

Jerry's eyes traced the entrance to the dining hall with apprehension. They had sent Kim to confront Jack about this and warn him against showing up today but knowing Jack, he would evade Kim and head straight to the cafeteria, where nearly half the school was seated as if they were waiting to judge him.

The Wasabi Warriors now sat in a tense rectangle. A single school table wasn't supposed to hold this many people but they'd pushed two together to form a long, rectangular table.

None of the teachers had objected.

Even now, Jerry saw flashes of the telltale article disappear with the swipe of a backpack or the shutting of a book, the slide of a plate. Everyone was talking about it, everyone knew Jack's family history, everyone knew Jack's weak spot, everyone knew Jack's secret.

Talk about one hell of a day—and it was only late morning.

Jerry's phone buzzed and Grace stirred; Jerry assumed that she'd felt the vibration. "What is it?" she mumbled tiredly, rubbing her eyes.

Jerry unlocked his phone and read the text from Kim out loud: _He woke up. He knows. I couldn't stop him, he's heading to the dining hall right now. Prepare, I don't know what his reaction will be like. He doesn't know the extent of the damage but I think he can guess._

"Shit," Grace swore, looking over Jerry's shoulder at the phone. "So that means, what? He'll know everything in a matter of minutes? He'll come bursting through the doors and then—"

The main doors of the dining hall banged open.

Everyone fell silent.

A lone figure stood at the entrance to the dining hall, the sunlight behind him illuminating his figure and making him seem even more alone, and also quite inhuman, like something divine sent from above. He was dressed casually, but his windswept hair indicated that he'd run here in a hurry.

Jack.

Even from this distance, nearly halfway across the room, Jerry could see his brown eyes, wide and calculating, sweeping across the tables, mentally noting the multitude of duplicated articles, the hard stares some of the students were giving him, the accusing glares, the scared, furtive glances. His brown eyes finally rested on the soccer team, and their apologetic looks.

Jack looked as if he were about to fly apart. It seemed that something was crushing him, slowly weighing him down, and the sheer pressure would crack him in half.

And in that instant, Jerry knew exactly who had done this to him.

Jack turned on his heel, practically shaking (whether it was from fear or fury Jerry couldn't tell), and slammed the doors shut.

"Well," Grace sighed. "Let the fun begin."

* * *

><p>Kim had searched for nearly half an hour before she discovered Jack's hiding place.<p>

She found Jack with his back against the wall of the athletics building, looking as if he'd flattened himself against the side of the building and slid down. His face was buried in his hands, his normally proud figure slumped, due to the absence of people in the immediate area.

Kim hesitated at the corner of the wall, unsure of whether talking to him in his current state was her best option.

What was she _supposed_ to say? How would she play this? There were so many ways this conversation could go. It could be a captain to teammate conversation, a friend to friend conversation, or something more that Kim didn't even dare consider.

"What's wrong?" Kim piped up, then realized, a second too late, that that was probably one of the most stupid things she'd ever uttered in her life.

Jack raised his eyes, rimmed red with anger and fury (no tears, Kim noted with a strong admiration), to hers with a broken expression. "What's wrong?" he repeated dryly. "Oh, nothing. Need I remind you that some random asshole just duplicated copies of that article about my father and posted them throughout the entire school?"

_Yep,_ she winced internally to herself. _Definitely the wrong thing to ask._

Despite the disaster at hand, Jack seemed to be handling it well, staying stronger than most would have in this situation. He didn't look like he'd shed a single tear yet—instead, he seemed to be suspended in a broken fury, a red haze surrounding him, angry at his past and that some douchebag had just revealed his biggest secret to the entire school.

But he hadn't cried. He wasn't feeling pity for himself and his "ruined reputation" in this school, he was just pulsing with anger.

Sometimes, it was easier to be angry than sad.

Kim knew that for a fact.

"You could have warned me," Jack's voice was frigid, cold, but it still seemed to steam with emotion, like the sidewalk on a burning day. "You could have told me the truth before I embarrassed myself in the dining hall, just storming in there and seeing everyone's eyes on me and running out like a wimp."

Instead of snapping at him, Kim instead carefully lowered her body next to him, so close they were almost touching. She could feel his warmth on her right shoulder and she craned her neck a bit, trying to look into his eyes, trying to make herself heard. "I bet it was one of the Black Dragons," she offered, as if an enemy they could pin this disaster on helped in any small way.

But she knew, deep inside, that it didn't, at least not right now while he was this angry. The identity of the person meant less to Jack than his father ever did. It was the challenge issued behind the action, the threat.

"They're trying to break you," Kim continued softly. "Don't let them."

When he didn't bother to grace her with a reply, she whispered, "I didn't know that about you."

"It was supposed to stay that way." Jack's muffled voice cleared considerably as he lifted his head out from the cover of his hands. "No one was supposed to know."

"I can see why," Kim conceded gently. "I have something things I'd prefer to keep secret too. But what was revealed today doesn't change who you are."

"Doesn't it?"

Kim clenched her fists. "It doesn't."

Jack seemed completely doubtful, unwilling to trust her words. "I used to believe that too. But words have power. They're already talking about me, I heard them a few minutes ago. They think I'm crazy. All because of my dad. If words don't change a person, then they change other people's perception of that person, their view of that person."

"There are lots of things they don't know about you, Jack," Kim whispered, her voice now barely audible. "If any of them spent even a minute with you, they'd know that you're nothing like your father—and I believe that. The soccer team knows who you really are. And the ones that will judge you based on that article don't deserve to know you and what a great person you are."

Jack raised his head, and Kim saw him swallow nervously before voicing, "What if I am?"

"What if you're what?"

"Like my father," Jack breathed out.

Kim's jaw went slack at that proposition and she leaned back, hard, against the wall, unsure of how to respond.

She was confident that this was his one, single, biggest fear, and he'd just confessed it to her.

"You…you aren't like your father," she stuttered out, fully aware of how unconvincing she sounded, even when she was telling the truth. "You're nothing like him, you should know that."

Jack snorted doubtfully. "And you're so sure?"

"Yes," she clenched her jaw with resolve. "Yes, I'm completely sure."

Jack looked almost as surprised as she felt at her sudden, undeniable faith in him. Truthfully, she was a little shocked at how hard she was trying to make him see right from wrong but they were teammates, and even friends. Wasn't this her job? And even if she weren't required to do this, she would probably say it anyway, because Jack needed someone to tell him. She had no doubt that the soccer team believed this but none of them had really spoken up.

"I mean it." Kim reached out for his hand but then decided against it at the last moment. "Really."

Their brown eyes locked in a stare. Kim felt a bit uncomfortable but she decided she would have felt worse if she were the first to look away, so she held his powerful eyes, watching the emotions mix around and blend in the dark orbs: confusion, anger, gratitude, shame, and a dozen more.

Then the eyes disappeared, and she was staring at space.

"Thank you."

Kim looked up at his figure that was now towering over her. He'd stood up, his face illuminated by the blinding sunlight, and his shadow fell on her, the shade cast over her body, still crouched on the ground.

"Lessons learned today: secrets have been officially shot to hell," Jack muttered, almost to himself.

Then he strode off across the campus, heading off to an unknown destination to do god knew what. He didn't talk to a single person, and disappeared around a bend.

Kim briefly considered calling after him.

Then, she decided to let him go.

* * *

><p>"Right," Kim finally managed to find her voice. "So, I guess we're here to—"<p>

At that point, someone burst into the computer lab. Kat's jacket was dotted with raindrops and her jeans seemed to have been painted a shade deeper than normal by the pouring water outside. Her dark hair, revealed after she'd slipped off her hood, was slightly damp as well.

"Didn't think to bring an umbrella?" Kyle quipped from his chair.

Kat scowled at him. "I'm not known for planning ahead. Also, I'm not in the mood, Walker."

Kim's eyes widened at her tone. She had never, not once, heard Kat call her best friend by his last name. She seemed especially snippy today and that wasn't exactly promising.

Kat turned to Kim, "Hey, sorry I'm late. Got held up with…something. What did I miss?"

Kim barely heard the apology and waved it off vaguely, deep in thought. They were all in the computer lab to discuss what had happened with Jack and the article about his father that everyone now knew about. Even after a week, the supposed "scandal" had not blown over. Jack was an extremely strong person but even he had been badly shaken up by this and Kim needed to figure out a way to make it all disappear.

But all she said was, "Nothing, really. Don't worry, Jerry and Grace haven't shown up either. I don't think they will."

Kat nodded at this, taking a seat in the middle of the computer lab with the rest of the team. She shrugged off her hoodie, unearthing a (mostly) dry long-sleeved shirt, much to Kim's surprise. Kat never wore long-sleeved shirts. She'd even told Kim personally once that she hated them.

"Well…where's Jack?" Kat eyed the rest of the team. "And, an interesting place for meeting up. Very hush-hush."

They'd arranged to meet in the computer lab because it was unlocked and deserted on the weekends. Kim wasn't sure what to feel right now—a rarity—and simply chose to respond to Kat's first question. "He's in town. I convinced him he needed to take some time off. It's been a week, he needs some time alone. He's watching a movie or something."

Kat breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, because one: he needs to get away from the sorry excuse this school has to call students and two: it's raining like hell outside. Thank god he's not taking a walk or anything, no one can afford to get sick now."

Kim nodded in agreement.

"So what do we do?" Eddie yanked their conversation back on track.

Kim took a long look at the soccer team sprawled out in chairs and on the floor: Milton, Julie, Eddie, Kelsey, Kat, Kyle, Pete…nearly everyone but Jerry and Grace, and that was a shame, as Jerry probably knew the most about how Jack was coping. They were roommates, after all.

Kim's shoulders slumped. "Well, what do we know?"

"Too many people have been coming up to me and saying that the Wasabi Warriors are now officially insane," Eddie shook his head. "One girl even offered to book us a room at a mental asylum together. Jerks."

Milton had traces of dark bags under his eyes, but he still managed to offer up some information. "They think Jack is insane, crazy, unstable…well, because of what the article said about his dad—which, in my opinion, is horrible."

"They're all judging him on that article," Kim whispered, almost to herself.

Kyle nodded in agreement. "That's pretty much it. Every single thing they're thinking about Jack now is being influenced by that article. In English, I saw the teacher giving him special attention when we were working on the family history project. She actually asked him if she needed to send him to a counselor or something—"

"What the hell?" Kelsey spat suddenly, shifting from her originally bored position, her anger seeming to increase by tenfold. Kim had barely even noticed the vain girl—Kim had suspected she was only there because it was a team meeting—but now the player looked ready to explode. "Really?"

Kyle winced regretfully. "The whole class heard her."

Kim gritted her teeth.

Julie tapped her fingers coldly, calculatingly on the table. "Wait, I heard about this. Didn't Jack have a…meltdown of sorts? Punch a person or something?"

"And that's where the rumors start spreading," Kim sighed. "Fake rumors, unfortunately. Jack didn't punch anyone—however, he did break a glass vase on the bookshelf. Then he stormed out and didn't return to school until soccer practice…"

When she was met with surprised eyes, she raised her hands defensively. "I talked to him about it, alright?"

"Kim Crawford, therapist," Kat muttered. "Mind giving the rest of us some therapy too?"

Milton looked aggravated now—he seemed to be having a pounding headache, as he kept rubbing his temples. His overall tired demeanor seemed to give him an even wearier look. However, he still managed to say tiredly, "Well, we all know Jack's a good person, right?"

"No shit," Kat rolled her eyes.

Milton ignored the jab. "Doesn't he have friends outside the team that know the real person that he is?"

"No," Julie snapped immediately.

Milton turned to look at his girlfriend with an air of surprise at her tone. "No?" he repeated.

"No," Julie shook her head. "Before all this, people in his classes knew he was nice but he spent—and still spends—most of his time with us. I don't think he's attempted to make another friend after he joined the soccer team—and then, this whole thing happened. These so-called friends don't know shit about his personal life. We're the ones that know Jack the best, but that's not enough."

Kim's eyebrows shot up to her hairline in surprise. Kim had never heard a single swear word come out of Julie's mouth until now—the girl was sweet as honey. Then again, Julie had been acting weirdly lately. She'd been perpetually moody—even right now—and her overall gentle personality had changed drastically. There was the tackling incident at the Seaford game, her new, snippy attitude, and…well, something was just different about Julie. She'd gained a harder, tougher edge.

And Kim wasn't sure she liked this new Julie.

In the silence, Kim's phone buzzed with a text, and she looked down at it for a long moment, rereading the words and the title marked _Urgent._

All eyes were on her.

"We're going to have to clean this up," she announced finally, waving her hands in a wide circle to indicate this disaster. "But I have to go now. Something urgent. Until then, don't stop trying. I know we can pull through this, okay?"

Several players gave her dubious glances, but she ignored them. "This meeting, or whatever, is done. Go do whatever you want now, just don't get sick. We have more games coming up, okay?"

One by one, the Wasabi Warriors headed into the rain.

None of them said a single word.

* * *

><p>It didn't rain often in San Jose, but when it did, it poured.<p>

Grace sat under one of the small gazebos scattered throughout the school's flower garden. The entire garden was basically a maze, half of it devoted to the botany students for studying and half for leisure. The latest soccer game was just a few hours ago and they'd just won by six goals when it started sprinkling on the field.

Since then, the sprinkle had turned into a storm.

She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, curled in a corner of the bench, staring at the rain. Her eyes were both calculating and faraway as she pondered her current situation and her next move.

It was like a game of chess…

Well, kind of.

The rain simply continued to drive down in sheets, not a drop touching her body but she still felt as though she were soaked. Grace adjusted her position slightly and leaned her forehead against the back of the bench.

_Splash!_

_Splash!_

_Splash!_

Grace twisted around to see none other than Jerry Martinez running toward her, shielding something in his hands. He barreled under the cover of the gazebo and brushed the liquid from his hair, taking care not to splatter Grace with any water.

He turned to her with a smile and a, "Hey," offering her one of the two coffee cups in his hand.

Somehow, while Jerry had raindrops all over his clothes, the coffees remained untouched by water. Grace accepted the cup of warmth gratefully as he plopped down next to her. "You know, I've lost track of how many coffees I owe you now."

"Consider it a permanent gift," Jerry smirked, though his expression seemed strained.

"You're spoiling me."

"Hey, I figured you deserve to be spoiled sometimes. Everyone does," Jerry shrugged, staring down at his own white cup.

As Grace took a sip of her hot drink, Jerry blurted out, "You look, um, pretty today."

She cast a careless glance down at her casual outfit; she sported the school's usual green blazer, a plain white shirt, and dark blue skinny jeans to shield against the chill of the rain. "I look regular," she dismissed with a wave of her coffee-free hand.

"Would you punch me if I said you're always pretty, then?" Jerry asked in all seriousness.

"Are you flirting with me?" Grace countered easily. She was used to compliments like these on a daily basis, from nearly all the boys in their grade. "Or do you actually mean it?"

A beat of silence.

Jerry whispered, "You decide."

She wasn't quite sure how to respond to compliments from Jerry. Half the time she thought that it was just his player-ish side taking over and the other half of the time, she wanted to jump up and squeal at his sweet words for some reason that was still unknown to her.

Nothing escaped her lips at first, but the situation was getting a bit awkward so she grabbed at something to say. "We're missing the meeting."

"What?" Jerry hummed in confusion. "What meeting?"

"Kim called a soccer meeting today," Grace waved her phone. "I just didn't want to go, I wanted to be alone. I think she gets it, but I'm not sure."

Jerry's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Oh, my phone ran out of battery today. Didn't get a text."

There was a large pause.

"It's about Jack, isn't it?" Jerry asserted after another sip of coffee.

Grace cupped the warmth close to her chest. "Yeah, it is. I guess he's handling the whole thing pretty well though, right?"

"He had a nightmare the other day," Jerry confided to her. "He wouldn't tell me details, but it was something about him sinking in mud. Something about words…people…"

"Speaking of nightmares," Grace turned to Jerry, "Are you still having them?"

Jerry shifted in his seat next to Grace, his shoulder bumping against hers. "They're getting better, I guess. Not as many…"

"But you're still having them," Grace slumped on the back of the bench, unadulterated fury now emanating from her. She was sick of everything. Her parents, the Black Dragons, her stupid life…and now Jerry was going through hell, just like everyone else—

Jerry, however, was used to a not-so-perfect life.

She wasn't.

"…Yeah, I am."

Grace buried her head in her hands, setting the coffee cup down on the ground none too gently in the process. "What the hell are we going to do, Jerry? You have your nightmares, I have my family issues, Kim and Jack have this weird thing going on, Jack has that whole scandal revolving around him, Milton looks like he's aging twice as fast as we are, and Julie's having a non-ending period. Where does this all end? What do we do to stop it?"

She wanted to add, _Why can't we be normal__?_

But she didn't.

"What _can_ we do?" Jerry pointed out, uncharacteristically wise.

She sat back against the edge of the bench, staring at the cup of coffee now clutched in her hands again, peering in the small opening in the plastic cap and at the swirling brown liquid. The two sources of warmth—the steam from the coffee and Jerry's steady body next to hers—failed to cheer her up, or heat up her insides.

"Nothing," Grace sighed, defeated. "We can't do anything."

* * *

><p>"Alright, alright, what is it?"<p>

Kim jogged up behind the lone figure at the bridge outside the movie theater. The pouring rain had slowed down to a slight drizzle but it was still enough to dampen her hair, to soak her clothes.

Still, she pushed her hood back to reveal her face and her hair.

Jack turned around slowly, his figure silhouetted against the gray backdrop of the dreary sky. "You remember this, right? This place?"

"Sure," Kim shrugged. "We had a talk here. Nothing major."

"It was when you still hated me," Jack snorted, shaking his head.

Kim didn't know what her next move was. Protest against his obvious current contempt at the past? Beg for forgiveness? Kim was not the type to beg but considering the circumstances and all the hell Jack had been through this past week, she figured he deserved something like that. Plus, this bridge most likely held bad memories for them both.

It was the place where she'd decided not to trust Jack, at the movies so long ago.

"Why did you tell me to come here?" Kim demanded, leaning against the bridge next to him. The parking lot below was full of cars but there wasn't a single soul outside. Everyone was inside, getting out of the rain and watching movies and having a good time.

Jack's face turned to her, his skin dripping from the rain. "I needed to tell you something."

"Okay." Kim waited expectantly.

"It's about a nightmare," Jack began, his voice emotionless.

Kim felt some of the blood drain out of her face, but she struggled to keep her voice steady. "A nightmare of Jerry's? He's having them again?"

"No, no, no," Jack smiled wryly. "This is one of my own."

Kim's grip on the rail tightened, the blood disappearing from her knuckles.

"It's been recurring this past week," Jack started again in a conversational tone. "The worse the crap I get in school is, the more horrifying the nightmare, so it changes every night. But here's the gist: I'm standing in something like quicksand. Mud, maybe, I don't remember this because it's not important. But there's a crowd of people around me. Some of them have faces, some don't. I recognize some of their voices, and some are new, just creations of my imagination."

Kim closed her eyes, biting her lip. "Are they classmates?"

"Some of them are," Jack shrugged indifferently. "But that's not important. It's the faceless ones that matter the most."

"Why are you telling me this?" The strength of Kim's hold on the railing just increased as she fought her inner urge to scream, to panic, to run. She had a bad feeling about this dream, and she didn't want to know the ending, if there was one.

Jack ignored this question and continued relentlessly, "Every single time they throw an insult at me or say something, I sink just a little bit deeper into the mud, or quicksand, or whatever it is. No one tries to help. The louder they scream at me, the faster I sink. I can't move, I can't get out. I'm just glued there while they drown me to my death with words, with thoughts. Eventually the mud closes around me. I try to get to air, but I can't. I try to get the disgusting stuff out of my mouth, because of the taste. The liquid tastes like blood."

"And?" Kim whispered, willing herself not to shudder.

"I wake up screaming every single night, trying to cough up mud, getting the taste of blood out of my mouth, trying not to drown," Jack told her. "And do you want to know the worst part?"

Kim shut her eyes tightly, against the rain and the horror of Jack's retelling. "No—"

"The leader is the one that encourages them all, the one that throws the most insults, the one that makes me sink the fastest. Their leader is faceless. But I recognize the voice. I could never forget the voice."

Kim's eyes snapped open. "No, Jack, I don't really want to hear any more—"

"The leader…is you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That last scene was completely unplanned but I kind of liked it. Showing Jack and Kim's darker sides...which you guys might have not liked. **

**Oh, well, I thought this chapter was at least a tad better than the last. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you on that big of a cliffhanger. I'll start the next chapter off with this same exact scene, with Kim's reactions to Jack's words.**

**Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out, and I realize the word count isn't as long as usual, but review?**

**Thanks for reading!**


	14. Captain Kim's Rectangular Table

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry it's been so long since the last update! ****There is an important A/N at the bottom of this chapter so I do encourage you to read it. (Plus, there is a bit of a spoiler/heads up.)**

**This chapter picks RIGHT (and I mean _right_) where the last chapter left off, so if your memory isn't that good, maybe reread the last few sentences of the previous chapter to get back into the swing of things. **

**Without further ado, here is Chapter Fourteen of "Playing To Win"! In other words, an argument at the beginning between our most dramatic couple, mentions of bottles, oh, and a food fight. Maybe this chapter will amuse you/depress you. Who knows? **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p>"<em>I play with passion and fire. I have to accept that sometimes this fire does harm."<em>

…

—_Eric Cantona_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Captain Kim's Rectangular Table<strong>

Well.

What the _hell_ was Kim supposed to say to that? What was she supposed to offer next in a conversation in which a fellow teammate had just explained that in his dreams, she was the ultimate villain? That she was the one feeding his insecurities, sinking him like an anchor tied to a boat, breaking him down little by little, eating away at his emotions and his confidence?

"I…well…" she just barely stuttered out before she shook her head. "What? It's _me_?"

"Shocking, isn't it?" Jack's eyes were unforgiving and cold, absent of the usual warmth she noticed in them. "Would you have guessed that?"

Kim remained silent for a long moment at this revelation.

"Be honest."

Kim thought it over for what seemed like an eternity, but all that registered in her mind was _guilt_, flowing from an undetected source deep in her heart and spreading through her body like a poison. Did Jack really have _that_ bad of an impression of her that he'd painted her as a villain in his dreams?

"No…I wouldn't have." She settled for the truth because first of all, it wouldn't do to lie to Jack in this type of situation and second, she _couldn't_ lie—she couldn't lie to save her life. "No, I wouldn't have guessed that. I've been less-than-friendly to you in the past, I admit it, but that was because of my own problems and…and…I don't think I was genuinely trying to be horrible. Please believe me."

What on earth was she trying to do now? Beg for Jack's forgiveness?

Jack's face remained emotionless as he gritted out, "Well, I don't think you'd be _so_ underhanded as to talk about me behind my back…"

The mention of that particular action stirred life into Kim, and she clenched her jaw. "I _wouldn't_."

"And I believe you," Jack returned, but his voice didn't exactly convey any of the warmth Kim was expecting—or hoping for.

She sighed. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure." Jack's voice was taking on more confusion than anger now and he seemed genuinely perplexed. "I'm just trying to figure out what the dream means."

Kim swallowed convulsively. "What do you _think_ it means?"

"Well…"

_Please don't let it be something bad, please don't let it be something bad—_

"I think it's my subconscious telling myself that I don't trust you yet," Jack theorized slowly. "I may trust you on the outside and I may think that I trust you but maybe I don't…not yet, anyway. Not fully."

Kim was taken aback at this new tidbit of information. Jack didn't trust her? After the events of last season, Kim hadn't deemed herself very trustworthy but she hadn't really given any reason for Jack _not_ to trust her yet this semester. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then…" Kim straightened up, despite the rain that was starting to blow into her face. "What can I do to _earn_ your trust?"

Jack snorted. "You want to _earn_ my trust?"

"I want to stop appearing in your dreams," Kim explained simply.

Jack hedged, "Well, I guess I could…ask you about something? And you could tell me? Like, questions?"

Kim was slightly shocked by this proposition but as soon as she'd thought it over she realized it wasn't entirely unreasonable. This was a perfect chance for Jack to learn to trust her, right? If Jack could trust her after this and if she stopped appearing in his dreams as some sort of evil symbol, maybe the guilt in her would evaporate.

She had to take this chance. "Okay. Ask me anything. I'll answer it honestly."

Jack considered his question for a long time, and the enormous amount of time he took to ponder his question only made the possibilities grow in Kim's head. Jack could ask her about what was wrong with her sister, Jack could ask her about what was wrong with Jerry; oh, shit, no, she shouldn't have agreed to this, Jack could ask her about—

"I want to know the full story behind The Ricky Disaster."

_Bam._ Just as Kim had come to a conclusion on what would be the worst-case scenario, Jack had nailed it straight in the heart.

She couldn't tell him about this. Telling him about her sister would be a walk in the park compared to what had happened last season, about all the shit that had gone down, the lies that had been told.

"I…"

Kim looked down at the ground and focused on a puddle that rippled with every single drop the rain poured into it.

The longer the silence stretched out, the angrier Jack seemed to become. "I asked you the question! Could you please answer me?"

"I can't tell you…" Kim whispered, her voice cracking. "Ask me anything else."

Jack's eyes narrowed in accusation. "Why can't you tell me this?"

Kim could almost feel the world start to crumble in on her as she hissed, "I can't tell you."

Jack crossed his arms. "I'm waiting. I'll wait here for as long as it takes for you to open up and tell me so I can finally trust you. This isn't just about you and clearing your conscience, you know, it's about me, too!"

"What?" Kim steeled herself and looked into his eyes. "So you can stop having these itty-bitty nightmares of yours?"

Jack's jaw locked at her deprecating tone and he spat out, "Let's try drowning _you_ in some quicksand that tastes like blood while people throw insults at you and see how _you _turn out! Every single night for a whole week!"

"But your nightmares aren't _real_!"

"Well, they feel pretty goddamn real to me while I'm in them!" Jack retorted swiftly. "Show me that I can trust you. _Tell me about Ricky._ You can't keep this from me for forever, Kim. Even if you don't tell me, I'll get it out of someone eventually."

So this was one of Jack's biggest pet peeves. He hated being out of the loop because being out of the loop meant being oblivious. Jack was not the type to choose ignorance over cold, hard, truth.

Normally, Kim would have found this sort of personality trait admirable, but right now she hated that particular aspect of him.

Kim's mouth was instantly devoid of any moisture and she licked her lips involuntarily, trying to get something back onto her dry tongue. "I…well…there was this…uh…"

Another long silence, in which Kim tried to find the words to explain. Little snatches of descriptive words floated around in her mind—_me, betrayal, guilt, Black Dragons, Ricky, Jerry, team, soccer, loss—_but she couldn't form a single coherent sentence without wanting to run away.

She just couldn't do this.

"Well?" Jack demanded angrily. "You said you wanted me to trust you, tell me about the Ricky Disaster!"

Kim felt hot tears spring to the back of her eyes, at the fact that Jack was asking the impossible of her. "I _can't!_ It's too…it's too—I just can't, okay? I can't even bring myself to tell anyone _else _about that, much less you—"

"The entire team knows," Jack's voice was cold as ice now, the fire frozen in its tracks. "And you can't bring yourself to tell me?"

Kim couldn't discern between her tears and the pouring rain now as she cried, "That's different. They were there, I had no _choice_—"

"Well, you don't have a choice here! If you want me to trust you, you have to tell me!" Jack pointed out in frustration.

Why was it that when she finally allowed him to ask something about her, he chose to ask about this? His curiosity was not without reason but he was asking about Kim's deepest secret that no one else but the soccer team knew about, her one weakness, her single biggest failure in her entire history of major screw-ups.

"I won't!"

"You have to!"

She couldn't tell him. Not right now, not right here.

Didn't he know when the hell to back _off_?

"Don't!" Kim shrieked back at him. They were practically face-to-face now, screaming their heads off irrationally as sheets of rain covered them, soaking them to the bone and sending droplets flying everywhere as they flailed in accusation. "Don't pretend like telling huge secrets isn't a big deal at all! Remember that particular secret of _yours_?"

Jack flinched, his eyes widening in alarm at what she was implying. "Don't you _dare_—"

She tried to stop herself but she couldn't, she was already moving and when Kim Crawford was in motion, an entire army couldn't stop her. "Oh, yeah, that little secret? About your _father_ being a psychotic killer? Oh, it wasn't such a big deal! You would have told all of us at any time! You _totally_ didn't _break down _and go into depression when it was spread _around the whole school!_ So don't you _dare_ judge me about not telling mine when you weren't exactly willing to offer up your _own!_"

That argument was met with dead silence. The entire world was quiet, even the rain that had started pouring relentlessly without end, and Kim couldn't believe that she'd struck that low—aiming at Jack's weak spot in order to protect her own.

_It's kill or be killed, right? _

And in this case, Kim was sure that her secret was going to be the death of her.

The world seemed to lilt slightly to the left like she was stuck on an amusement park ride, and she staggered, throwing out a hand to grab the rail. Jack sprang forward and caught her other hand, easing her slowly down to the ground. They knelt there, knee-deep in water, before they slowly rocked back onto their heels in tandem.

Jack was the first one to recover. "You shouldn't have said that."

Shame seemed to be burning Kim alive as she choked out, "I know. It slipped out."

"Like a secret," Jack said dryly, and laughed humorlessly.

"Like a secret," Kim repeated softly, willing the world to stop spinning as the words escaped her lips. "Can we…"

"Put this all behind us?"

Kim didn't miss the resigned, disappointed, wounded expression on Jack's face and her guilt only increased as she nodded, "Pretend like this never happened. If we start acting weird during practice everyone is going to know."

"Sure, whatever."

Kim bit her lip, "Please, Jack. Just _please_ trust me. I would never do something like call you names behind your back or talk about you, believe that. I've done things I'm not proud of—it's why I can't tell you about the Ricky Disaster—but you have to believe me. You can trust me."

He held her gaze for another long moment. "Okay."

It wasn't exactly a heartwarming confirmation, but Kim didn't get another chance to convince him. He simply walked off, shaking water from his hair, and disappeared inside the movie theater.

She felt herself heave a slight sigh of relief but inside, she knew that Jack would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

* * *

><p>She steeled herself and knocked on the door.<p>

There was a long pause before Milton's voice called out, "Come in!"

Her hand reached out and twisted the handle, swinging the door open. Due to her bad mood, the door banged against the opposite wall and she winced at the collision before dismissing it and trying to act normal for her boyfriend.

Milton was sitting at his desk, working on something absentmindedly. As she approached the desk she saw his laptop open to the title page of the Holocaust essay they'd been assigned to complete last week. It was so unlike him to be still working on it, as it was due tomorrow, and she knitted her brows together in confusion. "You're still working on that?"

Then again, she shouldn't really be talking to him in that tone; her own essay was currently completely unwritten, and it was unwritten on purpose.

Milton's voice was defensive as he countered, "Well, hi to you too, Julie. I'm just putting…finishing touches on it."

"Sorry," she apologized, though the words and the apology itself felt alien coming from her mouth. She leaned down to give him a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed his cheek and took a look at the opening paragraph. "Are you ready?"

He saved the copy of the essay on his computer and turned around. "Yeah, just let me grab my jacket, it's a bit chilly outside. Not to mention that it's raining…"

While he swung the article of clothing from the back of his seat onto his body, Julie noticed the bottle on his desk. Her eyebrows raised, she asked bluntly, "This yours?"

She didn't miss how his already translucent skin paled even more, but he managed to keep his cool as he replied, "No, it's Jerry's. I'm just borrowing it, I still have to get it back to him."

Julie's eyes remained fixated on the bottle for a few more seconds before she conceded, "That makes…sense."

Milton's tired, fatigued blue eyes were trained on her and she didn't like this particular feeling—she felt as if she were being passed under a microscope. His staring never made her feel this way and it was unnerving her greatly.

He looked like wanted to give her a hug or a kiss, like they used to do upon just seeing each other in the hallways, but ever since this season had started the romance between them had slowly decreased until it was nonexistent. They studied together, put on a show for the team, but other than that they just simply felt…unmotivated. Exhausted.

What was happening to them?

"I'm so glad you—" Milton faltered. "Are you wearing _black eyeliner_?"

Julie drew back, surprised at the sudden change in subject. "Um…yes? Why?"

Milton looked uneasy but he shrugged in what he must have thought was a casual manner. "Nothing, it's just new. I've never seen you wear makeup before."

"Well," she muttered under her breath as they exited the dorm room, "Maybe it's time for a change."

* * *

><p>"No, no, watch, it gets better," Jerry smirked.<p>

Grace was barely containing her giggles now and the Latino felt a bit of pride in being able to make her laugh. The two watched the screen, at the YouTube video that was currently broadcasting the source of their amusement.

"I can't believe that's actually legit," Grace shook her head, her face starting to turn pink from all her laughter. "I mean—"

Jerry nodded along with her, a huge grin on his face, "I know, right? That would _never_ happen with my cat! Or yours! Come on, this is totally—"

Jerry's dorm room door swung open with a loud, cacophonous _thump,_ causing both of them to jump about ten feet in the air_._ Both Grace and Jerry's giggles were instantly quelled as a completely soaked Jack entered the room, his movements hot with anger and yet slumped with resignation at the same time, resulting in an odd mix of emotions.

His every action flung droplets of water around the room, and Jerry flinched as a raindrop nearly caught him in the eye.

Grace leaned over and tapped the pause button on the video once the cat started to tap-dance, and the three remained in an awkward silence as Jack threw open his closet, not bothering to offer them a single greeting or word, and took off his shirt, swapping it for a dry one and putting the damp one in his laundry basket.

"Um…" Grace's eyes flickered between Jerry, who looked like he didn't know what to do, and Jack, who was giving Grace an expectant glance (he probably needed to change pants or something). "Should I go?"

Jerry wanted her to stay, he really did. Grace was like a safety beacon in the darkness, a light in what seemed to be never-ending black. They'd grown close this season, closer than most other members on the team, and right now, especially because of the rainy day, he just wanted to sit with Grace and watch hilarious videos that took their minds off of all the drama.

But he chanced one look at Jack's face, at his foreboding expression, and muttered quietly, "Yeah, maybe you should. Come by later, okay?"

Grace lips twitched up in a pink smile. She nodded, pecked his cheek, and then was up and out of the room in an instant, leaving the faint lingering smell of sweet perfume and the feel of her lips on Jerry's cheek.

At this, Jack had to crack a small smile. "Seems like you two are getting on pretty well."

Jerry unfroze from his shocked position and managed to flash Jack a grin, "Yeah, well, what about you and Kim? Last I checked, you absolutely did like her as more than a—"

He stopped at the sight of Jack's face, which had sobered up into a barely controlled expression of anger again. The latter flopped onto his bed, still in his wet jeans, and looked up at the ceiling, collapsing onto the comforter. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Jerry figured that whenever a person didn't want to talk about something, either he _really_ didn't want to expand on the topic or he just wanted someone to pry.

His head turned to look around the room, and he caught a glimpse of Kim outside the window, the blonde storming toward the girls' dorm hall. She was equally as soaked as Jack, looked almost as angry as him, and he wasn't sure, but she might have also been crying. The rain was mingling with her tears, so it was a bit hard to tell.

Jerry decided to pry, no matter how annoyed Jack would get with him.

"So what happened between you and Kim?" Jerry tried for a conversational tone but he didn't exactly _do_ conversational without sounding totally fake.

"Nothing."

To an outsider, Jack might have looked perfectly honest—he was a good liar, after all—but Jerry was feeling unusually perceptive today and it was with that knowledge that he pressed on bravely, "Is it romantic tension?"

"What—where did you get that idea?"

"Admit it, Jack," Jerry smirked in satisfaction. "You've totally got the hots for this girl."

Jack fixed him with a wry stare, his eyebrows raised as he tried to find words. "One, I can't believe that you just used the phrase _hots for this girl,_ and two, Kim's just a friend. It's nothing like that."

"You like her…"

Jack glared at Jerry. "I do not."

Jerry hopped up in glee and starting doing some form of a rain dance combined with the dougie. His subtle attempts to get Jack cheered up seemed to be working, and he sang, "You like her, you like her, you like her—augh!"

Jack's pillow had caught him full in the face as the forward threatened, "Tell anyone and I will burn your goalie gloves."

Jerry gasped melodramatically, clutching his hands to his heart, the perfect image of a traumatized soccer player, before a grin not unlike the Cheshire Cat's snaked its way across his face. "So it's true. You do like her."

"I don't want to talk about it," Jack snapped shortly. "What we said was personal and it was between me and her."

Jerry fell into silence.

"Now, can you please stop looking at me so I can change my pants?"

* * *

><p>"Today is a perfect day," Kat sighed dreamily.<p>

Jack looked up at her from the white assignment sheet, confused (since when did Kat sigh _dreamily?_). They were sitting in World Geography, drawing on maps—or, at least, Jack was. Kat seemed to be perpetually sleepy these days and she'd been absentmindedly staring out a window while Jack randomly scribbled on the plastic-covered map with an Expo Marker, not having a clue as to what he was doing. In their partnership, Kat was the geography expert, not him.

He poked experimentally at the Pacific Ocean, leaving an incongruous green dot in the flat blue.

_Maybe it could be an island,_ he decided.

"Yeah, it's absolutely splendid," Jack muttered distractedly. "Now can you please help me find the Yangtze River?"

Usually, he wouldn't be so uptight about this, but his grades had been slipping lately due to the amount of crap he'd been dealing with and if he didn't keep his grades satisfactory, his scholarship to Bobby Wasabi Private School would go down the drain. He would be forced to move back to Texas, back to private school.

And no matter what happened here, he wanted to stay.

"But look," Kat enthused, and she pointed out the window. "It's actually _sunny._ At this rate, the fields will be dry by the afternoon!"

She was either high or in an unusually good mood.

Jack decided on the first.

"Seriously, Jack, just _look out the window for god's sake._"_  
><em>

Jack finally looked up toward the windows and was immediately blinded.

The sun was dazzling, burning straight through the glass and falling in golden pools around the classroom. It was the first amount of sun he'd seen in days, as it had continued and continued to rain. Practices had, regretfully, been cancelled. He knew that Kim wanted to get everyone out on the fields but didn't for fear of risking their precious health days before a game.

"Yeah," Jack managed a smile, "I guess they will be."

Kat's jaw tightened, "We _have_ to practice all of tonight. From the time school lets out to evening until we _drop._ Tomorrow night's the game."

"Yeah, I—" Jack caught himself, frowning. "Wait, our last game is _tomorrow?_"

He'd been steadily losing track of their days since their latest game. Actually, now that he thought about it, he had to struggle to remember details about their previous games. All that he knew was that they were undefeated—except for one loss, against the Black Dragons. They still had a shot at going to the playoffs, but that chance was dependent on their last game of the season, against the Black Dragons. The Black Dragons had, in an odd game, lost to one of the worst teams of the league.

If they won tomorrow night, they went to the playoffs.

If they lost, the Black Dragons got to go.

"Yes," Kat answered with a roll of her eyes. "Yes, you idiot. It's _tomorrow!_ And it's against the _Black Dragons!_ Have you been living under a rock?"

Jack looked down at the map; it was covered with different marker symbols that eventually formed nothing but a huge mess. He was no doubt going to fail this assignment. "Something like that…"

Kat considered him for a moment before her face softened. "Look, I get it. We've all got our own demons to deal with."

Jack's eyes flickered down to her left forearm almost imperceptibly before he returned his eyes to hers.

"But we all need to pull it together. I don't know what's happening to the team this season, or what's going on between you and Kim—"

Jack's face flushed red.

A satisfied smirk appeared on Kat's face, "So there is something going on. Maybe you like her, maybe she likes you, maybe both of you are too proud or too stupid to admit anything like that yet. But our game with the Black Dragons is _tomorrow_ and we owe it to everyone—the rest of the team, the school, Rudy—to make sure that we win."

Jack tried to look at the rational side. "It's going to be difficult."

"Yeah," Kat rolled her eyes. "Just like this assignment. Really, Jack, it's not that hard. We're just labeling geographical features around the world."

Jack merely took the marker and drew a rainforest into the Sahara Desert.

* * *

><p>The fight between Jack and Kim didn't seem to have driven a wedge through them after the first few hours—in fact, they seemed to pretend that it never happened…at least, to the rest of the team. The argument still stayed with them, through every conversation they had, casual or not, the looks they traded during practice and classes and lunch, and though they never let anyone else see it, they were more closely tied than before.<p>

Kim couldn't deny that she still felt anger over what had happened at the movie theater but she had to admit, she'd struck a few low blows as well, no matter what Jack had asked of her. They seemed to have reached a tentative agreement, but both of them knew that they were just postponing the inevitable war where the secret would have to come out and Jack would be victorious.

Kim had decided to put full trust in Jack. It was hard, especially since she hadn't known him as long as the rest of the Wasabi Warriors, but he'd proved his loyalty to her over and over again despite the troubles that the world had thrown at them this season so far and she figured that he deserved her trust.

It was the least she could give him.

On Friday, the day the sun finally decided to come out and slowly bake the fields dry, Kim was standing in the lunch line when a familiar figure slid up behind her.

Jack.

"I thought you should know," he whispered into her ear, keeping his voice low as he pretended to reach for a lunch tray so their conversation didn't look suspicious, "I've stopped having the nightmares."

She twisted her head just a degree to the side, asking out of the corner of her mouth, "Really?"

Kim couldn't deny she felt relief at Jack's next words: "Really. They've stopped completely. At first, earlier this week, it was just a change of the leader—it's not you anymore, it's someone else—but they've stopped, for good, I think."

She turned around to face him fully. "So…you're not still mad at me?"

"Kim, I was never mad at you."

They stood frozen in line, locked in their own little world, the gap between Kim and the student in front of her expanding with every second. "You weren't?" she breathed.

"No," Jack admitted. "I'm sorry if I came off like that. I was just frustrated that you wouldn't tell me, that even though you wanted to earn my full trust you couldn't bring yourself to tell me your secret, but I thought about it a lot this week."

"And?"

Jack smiled dryly "_And_…I realized that I was being irrational. I was asking too much of you. I know how hard it is to keep a secret—and to tell one of your own. So I'm sorry."

Kim looked down for a moment, biting her lip. "I'll make you a promise, then."

"What is it?"

She fully realized the gravity of the promise she was making Jack, but she shoved all her fears away and pressed on. "I promise you that when I'm ready, when I'm fully ready, I _will_ tell you what happened between Ricky and me."

"The entire story?" Jack cocked an eyebrow.

She nodded tightly. "The entire story."

A smile broke out on Jack's face, and she felt her lips rising in a grin as well. "Thanks."

"Is all forgiven?" Kim asked hopefully, although she tried not to let too much of it show on her face.

Jack actually laughed this time. "Of course, all is forgiven, Miss Crawford."

Kim giggled—_really giggled_—out loud, and before she knew it, she was hugging him tightly, in front of everyone in the cafeteria, her arms wrapped firmly around his neck. If she had to be honest, she'd missed having a confidant. Someone she could actually talk to without feeling like she had to dance carefully on her tip-toes around sensitive subjects. They all had things to deal with but when she talked to Jack, those issues just seemed to disappear.

She suddenly felt very aware of Jack's arms around her waist and the eyes of the entire soccer team trained on them, and leaned back, staring into his chocolate-brown eyes.

Her heart started thumping at a rapid pace, and someone seemed to have lit a fire under her cheeks, as they seemed to be burning. She quickly drew away and practically leapt forward in line, closing the large gap between her and the person in front of her. Her hands were begging for something to do so she grabbed the item of food closest to her—the chocolate pudding.

Marge, one of the lunch ladies, raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "You sure you wanna eat that? I wouldn't even eat it…"

Kim managed a tight smile. "I think I'll manage."

As she moved along the lunch line, Jack seemed to appear normal, as if nothing unusual had happened between the two. Kim tried to keep a calm exterior but inside, she was freaking out. _What had happened?_ She'd hugged Jerry, Milton, even Eddie dozens of times—they were her best friends, like Jack. But _they_ hadn't caused her heart to beat out of control or for her to feel even a little bit uncomfortable.

She really hated emotions sometimes.

"Why don't we have the whole team sit together today?" Jack suggested as she paid for her lunch. "As a…morale booster, kind of."

Kim lifted her eyes to the cafeteria. Normally, the soccer team was split into two tables, with a few stragglers sitting at other tables—Kelsey, for example, or Pete. The cafeteria tables were rectangular and if they pushed two together, they could create a long table, kind of like a banquet table.

She was sure the other teachers wouldn't mind, not if it was for only one day…

"Good idea," she decided after a long moment. "Here, I'll go tell Kelsey and Pete, you start organizing putting the tables together, all right?"

After a nod from Jack, she made her way to the far edge of the cafeteria, where Kelsey sat with the so-called "popular" girls of the grade. Kelsey looked at her with guarded eyes as she approached and asked, by way of greeting, "What?"

"The entire team's sitting together at lunch today. Captain's orders," Kim informed her, her voice rigid with authority.

Kelsey raised an eyebrow. "And if I don't want to?"

Kim shrugged. "Your loss, not mine."

She strode away without another glance at Kelsey, but out of the corner of her right eye, she saw Kelsey gather her things and follow behind her, albeit grumpily.

In the middle of the cafeteria, Jack had organized some of the players into clearing space for the two tables and now they were shoving them together. If they'd had a fancy tablecloth and some shinier silverware, this might have been an actual banquet.

Too bad they were dressed in prep school uniforms.

Everyone got settled at the table. Kim ended up between Jack and Grace, with Jerry, Milton, and Julie across from her. Peering over Jerry's tall frame, she noticed the teachers giving them worried glances but once they saw her and noticed that the rest of the students were all on the soccer team, they seemed to relax.

As Kim poked at her pudding with her spoon, she had to give a grin of excitement. There were a few banners being hung up at this very moment by the cheerleaders, who had painted motivational phrases on butcher paper and were encouraging all the students to come to the big Black Dragons versus Wasabi Warriors game. The hype surrounding the game this weekend practically buzzed into her own veins and anticipation made it hard to sit still.

Her face fell as she remembered all the time they had lost this week due to the relentless rain. The fields were supposed to be dry by this afternoon but that would be _all_ the time they had before what was going to be the biggest game of the season.

Using the remainder of her spaghetti sauce, she considered the plate and started drawing up a rough chart with a single prong of her fork. She was almost done with what might have been a halfway decent lineup before a grape smacked the sauce, landing on what was supposed to be Milton's midfielder position and splattering tomato sauce on her milk carton.

"Jerry," she growled.

The goalie held his hands up in surrender, pouting as Grace laughed. "Hey, I looked deformed! Nothing like my usual, swagalicious, sexy self!"

Kim gritted her teeth. "You missed. Instead, you _deformed_ Milton instead…"

She grabbed her spoon and, taking care not to take away too much sauce, worked it underneath the grape and flicked it up at Jerry, hitting him square on his forehead.

"You," Jack started, prodding Kim with the clean end of his fork, "Need to loosen up. Relax. I mean, I'm pretty sure this is the start of insanity…if you haven't reached it already…"

Kim placed a pea from her container of mixed vegetables on a spoon and loaded it carefully.

Then she flung it at him.

"That relaxed enough for you?" she snapped impatiently, before smoothing out the tomato sauce with a spoon and trying to draw up the exact chart from memory. Her fork scratched the ceramic plate quietly as her eyebrows drew together in concentration.

Grace leaned over and dropped the remains of her chocolate cake on the entire row of forwards.

Kim stared at her plate for a long moment.

"Grace, you just squished yourself, me, and Jack in a huge avalanche of chocolate cake," she stated matter-of-factly.

Jack peered at the plate. "I think I look even more attractive than before…"

Kim was about to make a scathing remark when Grace pointed out, quite cheerfully, "Hey, if I squished the forwards there's a good chance I managed to get Ricky and Donna as well. What do you say about that?"

Silence.

"Relax, Kim," Jack stretched the words out like taffy as he leaned close to her, his arm pressing into her back and his breath warm on her ear. She shivered involuntarily. "The mighty Jack commands you to relaaaaxxxx…"

The entire table was staring at them.

Finally, she burst out laughing. Her friends were doing something they did quite excellently—cheering her up because they could sense her worry. None of them would deny that the game was extremely important, but sometimes it was better to laugh than to worry.

Kim turned around to face Jack and catapulted a chunk of strawberry at him with her spoon.

Five minutes later, there was food flying all over the cafeteria.

…

As Jerry would have put it…

YOLO.

* * *

><p>And ten minutes later, all of the Wasabi Warriors were lined up in a single row, facing the teachers, covered in spaghetti sauce, chocolate cake crumbs, and chunks of mixed vegetables and fruits.<p>

Kim's face was burning with the rare but still-familiar feeling of actually being ashamed, the sensation she got when she was be reprimanded by a superior for doing something wrong. The entire cafeteria's eyes were on them, and she had never felt more alone than she had in her entire life.

"Detention," the teacher was saying. "All of you. Tonight. During dinner, while everyone else gets to go out to town and eat wherever they want since you _trashed the cafeteria_, the Wasabi Warriors will clean up the cafeteria, from the moment school lets out until however long it takes for you all to finish. The teachers will be having a banquet in the formal room but a teacher will take time and come out to—"

Kim's left arm was jostled as Jack stepped forward indignantly. Her left hand shot out, trying to grab his blazer, but he was already too far ahead.

The teacher's jaw tightened at the sight of Jack, but she merely appraised him. "Yes, Mr. Anderson?"

Jack carefully wiped a chunk of sliced pineapple from his hair with an admirable amount of dignity and stated, "With all due respect, Mrs. Smith, the biggest game of the soccer season is _tomorrow evening!_ Could we please have any other form of punishment?"

"Absolutely not, Jack," Mrs. Smith waved it off as if the notion were absurd. "Students who start food fights _deserve_ to be punished. Maybe this will teach a lesson—"

Kim found herself stepping up next to Jack, propelled by her fury and her shame. "Jack's right, Mrs. Smith. Tomorrow is an extremely important day for the team and it's rained all this week, we haven't had a chance to practice for nearly six days! We _need_ tonight to refresh all our newest techniques and—"

"What's done is done, Mrs. Crawford!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed angrily. "And, by the way, you've made it through this season almost undefeated. I highly doubt losing a week of practice would result in defeat."

Jack's voice was as hard as steel as he countered, "Yeah, key words: _almost undefeated._ We lost our only game to the Black Dragons! And _that's our next game!_"

"Well, I'm sure you'll do just fine—"

Kim's eyes were glinting with barely controlled fire. "So you don't want us to win?"

"I—well, we—" Mrs. Smith was stuttering, and it seemed that she was losing her composure.

Kim flicked a hopeful sideways glance at Jack. There was a chance she could cave in now, what with all the pressure from the rest of the juniors around her and each member of the team giving her steely glances.

Mrs. Smith seemed to regain her confidence. "No. I absolutely refuse to let you reschedule your punishment. Go clean yourselves off, _now,_ before the lunch hour is over. I expect to see all of you here the second after the last bell rings, ready to _work._ Cleaning supplies will be set out for you. Now, _go!_"

The entire junior class watched solemnly as the Wasabi Warriors gathered their things and made for the entrance in little groups, defeated but proud in their loss.

Once outside, they decided to convene in one of the small courtyards scattered throughout the campus. Several of the players had gone, but the main instigators of this particular disaster/food fight—Kim, Jack, Grace, and Jerry—sat on stone benches and pondered this situation.

"It's hopeless," Grace was the first to speak up. She examined her clothes for more leftover food with an air of disgust. "We just have to—ugh, oh my god! There's a—"

"Chunk of potato in your bra?" Kim supplied dryly, watching as Grace pulled the item of food from within the folds of her school-issued blouse.

Grace nodded and looked about close to tears. "This sucks."

"I agree."

Kim had to admit, she was still furious at the fact that they were being punished for doing something as stupid as starting a food fight, but when it came down to it she couldn't blame Jack or even Jerry. She blamed herself, mostly, for what had happened.

And now the most recent tragedy was that they couldn't practice for a vitally important game that was taking place _tomorrow._ Kim never scheduled practices on game days, mainly because it was her belief that players needed rest and relaxation, but if things were getting desperate she might consider calling a morning practice…

"Wait…" Jack drew out the word slowly. She could practically see the wheels turning inside his head. "I think I might have an answer to this problem…a solution…"

Then, he didn't say anything for at least a minute.

"Well?" Kim asked impatiently. "Don't be shy here, share your ideas!"

She felt fear start to dawn on her as Jack and Jerry exchanged knowing glances. They seemed to have some telepathic boy-code between them, and after a few seconds of mental debate (which involved a lot of random eyebrow-wiggling), they both nodded decisively in agreement, a large grin forming on Jerry's face as the goalie rubbed his hands together.

This was bad, _very_ bad. Jack was usually determined, yes, but he was rational and levelheaded. He was _logical._ Jerry, well…he wasn't. If those two were actually agreeing on something without having to exchange words, something was very wrong.

"Well?" Kim demanded, unable to stay silent any longer but not exactly sure she wanted to find out. "What is it?"

Jack's wicked grin scared the living grits out of her.

"It's something called a jailbreak."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sucky chapter, extremely sucky chapter, but I had to get it out to you guys by tonight.**

**So, I just checked the stats for this story, and I discovered something jaw-dropping. Did you know that 52 authors have this story on alert? I've no doubt that at least a majority of them read the chapter. If everyone who had this on alert reviewed, and if all the anons reviewed regularly, I would have over fifty reviews for each chapter. Mindblowing—but I only get an average of twenty to twenty five.**

**So, I'm asking you all who read—please do leave a review. Even if it's just criticism, even if you're running out of time and can only type a few words—those few words can make my day. I need to know what I'm going right with this story and what I'm doing wrong.**

**SPOILER: The details of The Ricky Disaster are scheduled to be revealed in CH18 of this story—so I suppose you'll know when to look for that. Maybe you should start a countdown to Chapter Eighteen now, huh?**

**Oh, and the title of this chapter is a reference to "King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table". Since "Captain Kim's Players of the Rectangular Table" wouldn't fit in the chapter title box, this is what I shortened it down to. Who noticed it? Probably no one, since no one is as geeky as me...**

**Review, please! They mean so much to me!**


	15. Flight Risks

**A/N: Hey guys, and sorry it's been so long since the last update! I was without Internet for more than a week, actually, so it was kind of hard to write as I didn't even have a computer.**

**Let me just say, you guys really went above and beyond with your reviews. I mean, I think I nearly got seventy for just one chapter! Thank you so, so much for all your overwhelming support and all I can say is that I'm very flattered and I'd love for you guys to keep it up. I can barely express my full gratitude in words, haha. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p>"<em>To be the ultimate team, you must use your body and your mind. Draw up on the resources of your teammates. Choose your steps wisely and you will win. Remember, only teams succeed."<em>

…

_—Jose Mourinho_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Flight Risks<strong>

Slowly but surely, during the course of the afternoon classes, a plan began to form. Despite his initial optimism, Jack was almost positive it was doomed to fail, but Jerry seemed to be so content and cheerful planning something that involved breaking the rules that Jack couldn't bring himself to pop his happy bubble.

Through a cobbled-together method of text messages, passed notes, and whispered, hurried conversations in the hallway, the plan was spread throughout the soccer team so that at least every player had somewhat of an idea on what was going to take place.

Sure, maybe it was ill-planned, faulty, and doomed to fail, but Jack felt satisfaction that they were taking a stand.

Even if it could potentially land them in worse trouble than just a detention.

Jack's newly assigned lab partner was Kim, so as they tried to mix a solution together without having the liquid explode all over them, Jack asked, out of the corner of his mouth, "Do you think it'll work?"

There was a pregnant pause. Jack knew that Kim was considering the situation and the plan realistically, not willing to give him false hope, so he wasn't the least bit surprised when the blonde captain finally let loose a huge sigh she'd been holding in. "I don't know."

Jack considered the flask filled to the brim with orange liquid before setting it down. "What if we get caught?"

"I don't know that, either," Kim laughed dryly. "Maybe we'll get detention? Be forced to forfeit tomorrow's game?"

"Don't scare me," Jack warned her.

"Jack, what if this doesn't work?"

Jack was tempted to make another sarcastic remark, but after seeing Kim's face and acknowledging that the blonde next to him wanted a real answer, he bit his lip. "I think we have a…decent chance at succeeding."

"You're lying," Kim accused him instantly.

Jack's eyes widened, "What do you mean?"

"You're lying," Kim rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know you're a great liar and all—you convince nearly everyone else—but you don't convince me."

Jack leaned forward, "And why is that?"

"I don't know." Kim looked down at this question and if Jack was seeing correctly, her cheeks were tinged the faintest shade of pink. "It's something with your eyes. It's hard to see but if you look, it's there."

"And now all of a sudden you're an expert on my eyes?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

Kim smacked his arm. "They're very captivating."

When Jack's smirk morphed into a stupidly happy grin, Kim realized what she'd said. "No, I didn't mean it like _that_! I meant, they just make me want to…um…listen to what you have to say. Like earlier today, when we were trying to get out of detention."

"Ha, okay."

Kim sighed, "Now, if you can get over your ego, I have one more question to ask you—well, it's more of a request."

"A request?" Jack repeated slowly.

Kim nodded. "I want you to be the other leader tonight."

A slight buzz of shock ran through Jack.

Their supposedly "foolproof" plan tonight was to split the team up into two halves and practice separately on the fields, one group at a time. That way, at least half of the team would still be in the cafeteria should a teacher come to check on them during their banquet. The room the teachers were holding the banquet in was far enough away from the fields that a teacher wouldn't take his or her spare time to catch a glimpse of the empty soccer fields.

And…that was their mastermind plan, crafted by Jerry, their so-called "jailbreak", as Jack had named it earlier, and probably the single thing that would land them all in detention for the rest of the semester if they failed.

Wonderful.

"It's not much of a jailbreak," Jack muttered distractedly, lost in his thoughts.

Kim snapped her fingers in front of his face, their chemical experiment now all but forgotten. "Uh, Jack? Earth to Anderson? I asked you a question!"

"What? Yeah, okay. Sure. I'll be the other leader…" Jack couldn't help but feel mollified at this offer from Kim and decided to take it before it could slip away from him. "But this is still going to fail."

Kim giggled at this. "Yep, I have never seen a jailbreak so doomed to land us in _more_ detention…"

"We're flight risks, baby!" Jack crowed, before lowering his voice. "Right. Um, yes. This is not going to work. We are most _definitely _not flight risks, and…"

They were still laughing when their experiment caught on fire.

* * *

><p>"Holy shit," Grace remarked. "We really did make a mess, didn't we?"<p>

Even though the situation was serious and they had a plan to execute, Jerry couldn't help a grin at Grace's astonishment. "That," Jerry smirked in satisfaction, "Is a Jerry Martinez specialty. Food fights for the win, yo!"

"Yeah, well," Kim drew him back to the current situation, "That was what landed us in detention on the eve of our biggest game of the season. So don't be too proud."

Jerry's sheepish apology was cut off by an, "Ah, hell!"

There was a loud _splash,_ and the three whipped around to see Kat standing on the edge of a liquid explosion, the cafeteria floor in front of her a huge puddle of what seemed to be some sort of instant coffee.

"What's that?" Jerry asked curiously.

"Instant milk tea," Kat gritted her teeth. "It's getting colder outside, so I thought I might try making it again. Too bad, those stupid caps are unstable as _hell_ and don't grip anything. I held it by the top for a second and the whole cup just slipped out of my hand."

A pause.

"Well, we already made a mess," Kat shrugged. "Might as well clean up the instant milk tea along with it."

"YOLO," Jerry piped up from behind Grace before everyone turned to look at him. He raised his hands defensively, "What? Can't a bro say YOLO in peace?"

"That rhymed," Eddie observed.

Jerry's scathing remark about the stupidity of _rhyming_ was cut off as Jack and Kim motioned everyone to a corner of the cafeteria, to where all the cleaning supplies they were to be using were laid out. Both of the forwards' brown eyes were steely with resolve and Jerry had a fleeting sensation of thankfulness that those two were friends and not enemies.

"_Jailbreak time,"_ Jerry whispered evilly under his breath.

"Here's the situation," Kim muttered, pitching her voice just loud enough for the entire team crowded around her to hear. "We're going to go in two groups. The first group is Jack, Grace, Kat, Milton, Kelsey, and Pete. The second group is me, Jerry, Julie, Kyle, Eddie, and Evan. Jack's going to be leading the first group and—"

"Hold up," a voice came from the back. Kelsey stepped forward. "Why does _Jack_ get to be the first leader?"

"Because," Kat retorted nastily before Kim could even blink, "Jack actually knows what he's doing. You'd be too busy checking your pretty little nails to actually make us practice. And you'd order us to get you fat-free lattes. We wouldn't make it out the _door_ with you as our leader."

A few of the players erupted in snickers while Kelsey exchanged death ray glares with Kat, but soon Kim had quieted down everyone else.

"Alright, we'll clean together for an hour or so until it starts getting dark," Kim decided. "Then Jack will take the first group and grab practice equipment. Jack, when we're cleaning, I'll need to talk to you because I need to go over some strategies you need to—I mean, those tables better be shiny and _free of meatballs, Jack, or else_!"

Jack seemed to accept this totally random exclamation with a smooth demeanor. "Whatever you say, Kim. I am so not willing to get_ called out by the detention teacher again._"

The majority of the team looked surprised at the sudden change in subject, but Jerry cast one look back behind him and noticed what Kim and Jack had spotted and the rest had not; Mrs. Smith was currently standing behind Kelsey, watching them like a hawk.

"This is detention, Miss Crawford and Mr. Anderson," Mrs. Smith informed them icily, "Not a gossip session. Get cleaning, _now!_"

The rest of the group dispersed quickly, sponges and cleaning rags and soapy water in buckets clanging around and sloshing into an even bigger mess as they made their way to their various stations across the cafeteria, but Jerry lingered in front of the teacher for a bit, deciding between a hot pink sponge and a baby blue one.

Decisions, decisions…

"Do you need something, Mr. Martinez?"

Mrs. Smith was clothed in a dress that was obviously aiming to make her figure seem younger and slimmer but utterly failed at the task. Jerry could see Grace, behind the teacher's back, cringing and gagging at the obviously disastrous fashion choice Mrs. Smith had made, Grace's mortified expression just visible behind the layers and layers of peach lace that seemed to be filling Jerry's vision now, much to his horror.

After Grace flung her arms out wide, sending a sponge flying across the room as she attempted to mimic Mrs. Smith's wide body in the most melodramatic method possible, Jerry burst out laughing at the expression on Grace's face, unable to hold his laughter in anymore. Her cheeks were bulging as if she were a puffer fish, and as Jerry watched, the brunette grinned at him and winked before turning around and attempting to scrape some dried spaghetti sauce from the surface of a table.

"Is something amusing you, Mr. Martinez?" Mrs. Smith snapped at the goalie, unaware of Grace's antics right behind her.

From across the cafeteria, Jerry heard Jack's faint laugh.

Jerry smirked. "Oh, my, my, Mrs. Smith. You have no freaking idea."

Then he grabbed a cleaning rag, a bucket filled to the brim with soapy water, and got out of there quickly.

_Jailbreak time._

* * *

><p>"Alright," Kim instructed him, her voice at a normal volume now that Mrs. Smith had left to the banquet with strict orders to clean and do nothing else. "So, you have to review the trick to goal kicks one more time—"<p>

"And make sure they really understand it," Jack finished, shaking his head. "Really, Kim, I've got this. I was a captain before, you know."

Kim tilted her head as she flicked a chunk of strawberry into a trashcan with distaste. "So I've heard…"

Strangely, the conversation between the brunet and the blonde ceased soon after that as they continued to work on the table, Jack attempting to peel a strand of spaghetti off of the smooth surface with no success. It was as if the pasta had been practically hot-glued _and_ super-glued at the same time to the table and he was having a hell of a time getting it off. It was boring work but it wasn't especially hard, and he concentrated on memorizing all Kim had told him.

At a beep from his cell phone, he looked up to see the rest of his group waiting expectantly at the back cafeteria doors, with shifty, involuntarily guilty looks pasted on all of their faces. Milton looked practically squeamish at the fact that they were breaking the rules and getting out of detention, but the midfielder managed to stay quiet.

"Well…" Jack stripped his hands of the cleaning gloves, revealing clean, untouched skin. "I guess I'll go now?"

Kim slipped off her gloves as well. "Yeah. Be careful, try not to get caught."

As Jack gave her a smile and turned around to leave, Kim instinctively reached out and caught the nearest thing to her: his hand.

They both froze at that, two pairs of brown eyes flickering to their intertwined hands.

Kim dropped his hand hurriedly, sure that her face was now hotter than the core of the earth. "Um…just, uh…be careful?"

"You already said that," Jack smirked.

"Fine," Kim rolled her eyes. "Don't get caught. Good luck."

With that, she returned to cleaning, pulling the rubber gloves back on and sweeping food off of the next table.

Five minutes of sneaking around and whispered teasing later, they'd arrived in the locker rooms. Jack changed as fast as he could, ignoring Milton and Pete's comments about him enjoying the hand-holding, and met Grace in the equipment room, mentally calculating how much of every item he would need.

"Wow," Grace sighed, running a hand through her ponytail, tightening it as Jack surveyed the equipment. "There used to be so much more…"

Jack was bending down to retrieve some cones and looked up at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there used to be a lot more soccer equipment," Grace elaborated, almost oblivious to Jack's sudden interest. "More practice jerseys, more cones, more soccer balls. Stuff like that."

Jack personally thought that there was enough equipment in the room to train maybe at least two teams but he pressed on carefully. "What happened to it all?"

"It got—" Grace's cheeks paled as she finally took notice of Jack's slightly accusing, overly eager tone. "It got…lost."

Jack arched an eyebrow. "_Lost_?" he repeated.

Knowing someone as critical as Kim and as protective as Rudy, Jack didn't believe that the equipment had simply been _lost._

Grace shifted uncomfortably and went back to twirling strands of her ponytail, something Jack noticed she always did when she was trying to dance around a sensitive subject. "…Yeah."

"I don't believe that," Jack stated simply. "What happened to all the other equipment?"

Grace rolled her eyes, "Okay, it didn't get lost. It got…destroyed, basically. That's it, nothing more."

Jack's eyes widened. "It got _destroyed?_ By who?"

"You know. By, um, people." Grace grabbed a soccer ball from Jack's hands and hopped out of the way, "The culprits were never caught. I'll get everyone started on practice, you continue to get equipment, okay? Okay. Sounds like a great plan!"

Before Jack could interrogate her any further, Grace was out of the equipment room in the blink of an eye.

* * *

><p>Back in the cafeteria, Julie was having a hard time concentrating. Her eyes kept flickering toward the huge clock displayed at the front of the dining hall, she'd rubbed at one spot with a cleaning rag for about ten minutes, and Jerry had been forced to catch her after she nearly toppled into a bucket of soapy water in a distracted trance.<p>

That last incident had earned her an extremely odd look from Kim, which Julie had witnessed from between Jerry's arms, and she'd mouthed _sorry_ to the forward when Jerry had looked away. Kim was probably aware of Grace's affection for Jerry and there was no doubt that this looked suspicious…

And, also, she had a boyfriend.

Five minutes after she nearly collapsed face-forward into a bucket filled with the chunks of fruit that had been served at lunch today, none other than Mrs. Smith showed up, her heels clacking down the hall and the rest of her appearing five seconds later.

Needless to say, she was not amused to find nearly half the team missing.

"Where are they?" was the first thing Mrs. Smith demanded.

When no one answered, she whipped on Kim, who was so startled she nearly squeezed her sponge too hard and almost squirted the teacher with dirty water. "Miss Crawford. Where are your teammates?"

When Kim failed to answer (the blonde knew she was a horrible liar and wasn't going to risk giving them away), she turned slowly, before resting her eyes on Julie with the kind of confidence a hawk had once it found its prey.

"Julie," Mrs. Smith simpered, her tone suddenly honey-sweet. "You're a good student. A devoted teammate. You'd always tell the truth. Why don't you tell me where your friends are?"

A burning flash of anger raced through Julie like lightning, and she gritted her teeth. Even after nearly a semester of trying to change, Mrs. Smith still saw her as the pushover, the straight-A student, the goody-two-shoes, the one that would sell her friends out once confronted with authority. She was nothing more than the student who jumped up eagerly to answer questions in class, the one that would go out of her way to complete extra credit assignments…

A _nerd._

Maybe that was also the only thing her parents saw in her.

The same fury refused to burn itself out after a moment and instead of replying sweetly like she would have done last semester, Julie snapped, "Why?"

Mrs. Smith looked taken aback at Julie's cold question in answer to her own question, but she continued trying to suck up to her, setting Julie off even more. "Well, Julie, some of your friends are missing. Like, hmm…Kat. Where is she?"

"Kat?" Julie felt the beginnings of lies start to roll smoothly off her tongue. "She's in the bathroom."

Mrs. Smith quirked an eyebrow—apparently, she was not pleased with this simple and overused, cliché answer.

"Fine," Julie put on a mask of exasperation, slipping it on without a hitch. "She's changing her tampon! She's on her period! And unless you _want_ to make her rush and have her completely bite your head off because we all know that Kat on her period is like—"

"_Enough!_" Mrs. Smith ordered once some of the players had started snickering. "Grace?"

"Putting on makeup. Cleaning really messes up your wrinkles…but Grace has always denied having them," Julie smirked wryly. "Even though it's pretty obvious everyone has them."

"Jack?"

"He went to go get a sweater from his dorm, he was cold," Julie lied easily.

It was scary how naturally lying was beginning to seem to her.

Mrs. Smith raised a skeptical eyebrow. "He was _cold_?"

"Well, it is kind of nearing winter," Julie said sarcastically, her words painfully slow as if she were talking to a five-year-old. She rolled her eyes, "He's bound to get cold, right? It's fall, after all."

"Well, what about Kelsey?"

Julie didn't miss a beat. "Emergency cheer practice. The coach threatened to kick her off the squad if she missed this one, and you know Kelsey…"

"Milton?"

Julie's stomach tightened at the mention of her boyfriend.

They'd been falling apart…

She tried to fight back her feelings of missing him and what they used to have and instead pushed those emotions away, focusing on the task at hand and her new, reinvented self. She managed to get out, "He's tutoring some kids—it was last minute. He's only helping them with a few math questions or so, he'll be back soon."

She could practically see the steam pouring out of Mrs. Smith's ears now. Julie was purposely telling her lies that, if the teacher wanted to check up on them and verify their truth, would pull her in several different directions. Julie could _tell_ that Mrs. Smith didn't want to miss the banquet—hell, no teacher ever did.

Instead of inquiring about Pete, Mrs. Smith nodded tightly, though Julie could tell that she was unconvinced. "Fine. If they're not back soon, tell me. I'm back off to the banquet. Keep cleaning, you're barely halfway done."

Julie flashed the sweetest smile she could at the teacher, while inwardly trying not to gag. "Of course."

As soon as Mrs. Smith was out of earshot, Julie was crowded by the group. Jerry was attempting to high-five her on using her lying skills well, Kim was thanking her for getting her out of that tight spot, and Kyle was smirking at the idea of Kat on her period and Grace putting on makeup to prevent the inevitable wrinkles.

Outwardly, she accepted their praise, but on the inside, she felt her old, hidden self actually crumbling away with every word.

She'd vowed to reinvent herself, to make herself noticed and stand out. To be able to exist in a crowd and be picked apart from all the other average students, to be _different._

But she wasn't so sure she liked this new Julie.

* * *

><p>"Good, Milton!" Jack called out, jogging in place to keep warm as he alternated between watching the setting sun and Milton's current shooting at the goal.<p>

The intellectual midfielder flashed him a quick, grateful smile as he ran to the back of the line.

This was the first practice Jack had officially run in nearly two years and he was still surprised at how easily assuming the role of captain during a practice still came to him. Yes, he'd filled in for captain during one of their games when Kim had been absent but still, this was a bit different. Calling all of the shots, deciding on what things to remind them of, picking which exercises to do.

It was tiring, but it was not unfamiliar.

Grace jogged up beside him, panting slightly. Grace was probably the closest to Kim out of their tiny little group here and therefore, she knew the captain's teaching methods the best out of anyone.

"Any advice?" Jack raised his eyebrows as the brunette's long ponytail swung back and forth in time to her exercise.

Grace considered this for a moment. "Don't break her heart."

"Alright, I'll—wait, what?"

Jack stared at Grace in wholesome confusion, and after an expectant second, Grace rolled her eyes quite impatiently and added, as if this would clarify the whole situation, "Kim."

"Okay…?" Jack was not seeing the point or the connection between the random advice and the mention of the captain. "Could you please explain?"

Grace sighed in exasperation. "Don't break Kim's heart, you idiot! Could I not be any more clearer than that? Because if you do, I will break your face."

Jack's eyes widened at this threat, "What makes you think I'd break her heart? I'm not even sure I have it! And again, I repeat…_what_?"

"Oh, please," Grace's eyes rolled again as the fellow forward ceased her jogging and finally looked at Jack seriously. "You guys are head over heels in love with each other but you both won't admit it to each other."

Jack remained silent. "Listen, can this wait until after we're done with this crucial practice? We're not exactly rusty but there are still some things I'd like to go over—"

"Whatever," Grace dismissed it. "Okay. But I know you both like each other."

"No, we don't."

As if the world was determined to show him irony, his iPhone in his shorts pocket buzzed right then.

"I'll bet you anything that's Kim," Grace smirked.

And it was.

The message read, _When are you coming back? It's almost been an hour, Smith was over here and I think she's starting to get suspicious. Is everything okay? —Kim_

Jack shoved the phone back into his pocket, "That doesn't prove anything."

"Oh," Grace folded her arms. "So that wasn't you that I saw getting all starry-eyed after Kim grabbed your hand as we were leaving almost an hour ago?"

When Jack failed to deny this little fact—how could he, anyway, when Grace had seen it with her own eyes?—Grace's grin widened. "Yep, so Jerry was right. At least you're not in denial like he said you were—"

"Wait," Jack's tone was outraged, "Jerry told you about this?"

"We talk a lot now. _Anyway,_" Grace stressed the word, silently begging Jack to ignore her flushed cheeks at the mention of the goalie, "If you break Kim's heart, I shall break your face."

"I don't even, um, _have_ her…_heart_ but okay…?"

Grace nodded in satisfaction. "Good."

"Now, Miss West," Jack pointed sternly at the goal, "Go back to doing exercises with the rest of the team or I will be forced to make you run sprints up and down the field."

She clasped a hand dramatically to her heart. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, I would."

Grace didn't doubt it.

* * *

><p>Kim had seen this coming.<p>

In retrospect, if she had foreseen this future, it would have been more wise of her to cancel the jailbreaking plan altogether to prevent this completely.

But she'd let Jack talk her into it, and here they were.

This time, the cafeteria was (somewhat) clean and not dripping with food, but the situation still resembled a bit of their lunchtime faceoff—the team (half of the players drenched in sweat and in workout gear) in one line, and Mrs. Smith in the other. The latter was also furious like she'd been before, but this time, she also had the principal with her.

They'd been found out.

Kim had no doubt that Jack had done his best to sneak around the school undetected but apparently the security guard monitoring the security cameras in the school had found it odd and a bit alarming that their were several students creeping around the school after hours in strange soccer clothing, as if they'd recently been broken out of a fitness training Wii game and were on the run from healthy eating habits and the suggestions of doing twenty more pushups.

Okay, that was a bad simile, but Kim digressed.

The sighting had been reported to Mrs. Smith and after that, well, there wasn't much else to say. The Wasabi Warriors were now facing a jury including the principal and a fate much more worse than a simple evening detention.

It was true that cleaning up the cafeteria hadn't been a _simple_ detention, but Kim was sadly confident that Mrs. Smith had a never-ending list of punishments for bad little students.

Ugh.

They were so screwed.

Mrs. Smith was currently chewing them out, screaming at their dishonor to the school by breaking the rules and sneaking out of detention and on the employee banquet night of all nights, and Jerry looked as if his ears were going to explode.

The most prominent issue Kim noticed this time was that she didn't feel ashamed.

Even though Mrs. Smith's very _insistent_ arguments that she should be ashamed and torn up over what she did managed to filter into her hearing and her brain, she didn't feel guilty. Not one bit.

Maybe it was like Jack had mentioned to her earlier—they were taking a stand.

And they liked it.

She shot a sideways glance at the tall, proud, unbending forward next to her. His eyes were staring straight ahead, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheek raised in what could only be a strong act of defiance. His dark hazel eyes somehow seemed to mix with his slightly messy brown hair and Kim had to marvel at how they'd gone from enemies to confidants to (best?) friends in all of one semester.

She was about to ponder her feelings for him when he looked down at her, brown eyes locking with brown, and a ripple of warmth flooded through her.

As if no verbal communication was needed, they stepped forward.

As a team.

Mr. Wasabi, the principal, had been silent this entire time during Mrs. Smith's rant but Kim seemed to think that he would be easier to convince. She let Jack do the talking, as he had a way with words that Kim just didn't. He spun words into stories, into tales, into persuasive arguments that would have you dropping everything to do what he wanted.

Well, most of the time.

"Mr. Wasabi."

The principal looked up at the mentioning of his name.

"Mr. Wasabi," Jack began, "I know we've done something wrong, something that deserves punishment. I will admit it now, we broke school and detention rules. We had a plan—for half of us to sneak out to the fields, in two groups, and get in our practice while the other half cleaned."

Mr. Wasabi looked even more surprised at the blatant confession Jack was making.

"And I'm not saying we don't deserved to be punished for what we did," Jack continued, "But I want you to know that we did this—us, the Wasabi Warriors—because we want to win tomorrow. We want to bring pride to our school, beat the Seaford Black Dragons—but tonight, we didn't feel that we were prepared for tomorrow's game."

Kim shifted her position and flashed Mr. Wasabi what she hoped to be a convincing smile. She didn't have to try too hard for it, as Jack's words _were_ truthful.

"Mr. Wasabi," Jack paused for a moment, probably letting his previous words sink in, "You know what it's like being a soccer player, part of a team. If I recall correctly, you were an avid soccer player when you were younger. Don't you remember the desire to win? And the fear that if your team lost, that you would be the single reason for their failure—because you couldn't do something right?"

The principal flinched at this and Kim felt a shiver run up her spine, courtesy of Jack's words. It was scary how much truth they held.

"I'm not making excuses," Jack clarified. "I'm not denying that what the whole team did was wrong. I'm just asking you, requesting you to see things from our point of view—a soccer team that wants nothing more than to win for Bobby Wasabi Private School, a soccer team that just needs one last practice. We're so close, sir, and I honestly think we can win tomorrow if you give us just one last chance."

Kim finally saw it—the picture Jack had wanted to paint. An innocent—well, maybe not-so innocent—soccer team driven to break school rules because of their desire to be the best, to win, to bring honor to their school and the possibility of going to the state playoffs. In their eyes, they had done nothing morally wrong. They'd broken a few school rules but it was for pure intentions.

Mr. Wasabi was quiet for a long moment. Kim took this as her cue to step back and she and Jack did so in tandem, retreating back into their original line with the rest of the team, as equals.

As friends, as teammates, as a whole that could not be divided.

"Give them the rest of the night to practice."

Kim's head snapped up at those words.

Mr. Wasabi's voice was quiet and yet powerful, like a calm sea that knew it could unleash the force of a thousand tidal waves if need be. "Get the cleaning crew to clean the rest of this mess up. Wasabi Warriors—"

All of their breaths hitched.

"You've shown to me again what it really means to be a part of a team. Practice as late as you need to, the fields will stay open for you. No one will bother you." Mr. Wasabi's eyes seemed to grow the tiniest bit misty as he contemplated the row of teammates. "Thank you."

He didn't need to say what for, but Kim thought she knew.

As soon as they were outside, Kim turned to Jack with a huge grin. "We did it!" she laughed, finally hugging him in relief. "We get to practice!"

Jack smirked. "And we'll practice hard, so we can kick some Black Dragon ass tomorrow."

In that moment, she felt elated, like someone had lit a fire in her that could not be extinguished with any amount of water or wind.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

><p>"I think we're ready."<p>

The brunette didn't reply.

Kim looked over at Grace excitedly. "I think we're ready for tomorrow's game!"

"Wow, Kim," Grace grinned mischievously as they stood at the edge of the soccer field. "This has to be the most optimistic I've seen you all season. I'm guessing Jack has something to do with it…"

"What?"

Grace rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious, "Come _on_! You two are totally in love with each other."

"That's strange, I didn't know my job description as being Jack's friend required having more than platonic feelings for him…"

"He likes you."

Kim, who'd been taking a sip out of her canteen of water, promptly spit the water out onto the field and, despite the cool air, faced the wind to look at Grace, squinting her eyes. "What have you been smoking?"

"Nothing," Grace grinned lightly. "But he told me himself."

Kim aimed a dubious look at Grace, "I highly doubt he willingly offered that information up…"

"Okay, so I tricked it out of him," Grace amended. "But he likes you. And you like him."

Kim turned around and began to throw things in her bag. "So what if I do? Grace, you know I've written off relationships for me with any other soccer player in this team. And a few outside of it…"

They both sobered at the implication and Grace cleared her throat. "But Jack's different. He's not Ricky."

"I know…"

"Do you?" Grace arched an eyebrow. "Because you still sound unconvinced."

The blonde didn't respond to that and after a few seconds, Grace seemed to get bored. "I'm just saying, Kim, you guys really would be good for each other. I know for a fact he likes you. He'd probably kill me for saying this, but…"

The brunette ambled off down the soccer field, in search of Jerry, leaving Kim to her _very_ confused thoughts.

A while later—it could have been a minute or thirty minutes—Kim heard a very familiar voice speak from behind her. "Staring up at the stars?"

"Somewhat," she replied dryly, turning around and looking into the familiar brown eyes. "Hey. I thought you'd have gone back to your dorm already and showered. We do have a very important game tomorrow…"

Jack smiled impishly, "You looked lonely."

"Maybe I am."

The two fell into silence on the empty field, Kim's eyes trained on the distance. She felt Jack's eyes on her face—not in an accusing way but more of a respectful way, and suddenly she felt very self-conscious.

"So, I'm asking this to you from a teammate to a teammate…do you think we'll win tomorrow?"

Jack considered it carefully. "If we play right and fair…I'd think the odds are in our favor."

"Yeah, that's what Katniss thought," Kim muttered out loud. "And then her sister got reaped for the Hunger Games…"

"What?"

"Never mind."

_He likes you,_ Grace had said.

Damn confessions.

The silence was beginning to grow awkward so Kim offered, "Um…I have to get back to my dorm now."

"Okay." Jack didn't move from his spot, his eyes now looking in the direction Kim had been staring at, his gaze seemingly faraway.

"Hey…" Kim reached forward to grab his arm, feeling a stirring in her chest she'd never felt before. Jack's eyes flickered down to hers, and they seemed to stay like that for a long, long time—him looking down at her, her fingers wrapped around his elbow.

"I just…wanted to say thank you."

Jack laughed softly, "Thank you? For what?"

"For doing everything these past few days," Kim admitted. "For sticking up for the team when this is still your first season. For talking us out of punishment, so we could get here. For forgiving me, even though I've been less than friendly. And…"

She wasn't sure what propelled her to do it—maybe it was the emotions that were running at top speed—but suddenly she found herself leaning in slowly and before she knew it, she'd kissed him quickly on the cheek.

His cheek was warm, soft, and she let her lips linger on it for exactly one second—enough for her to take in the cool evening breeze, the warmth she felt from him even though her jacket, his slight, comforting scent—before pulling away jerkily.

_What did I just do?_

She was slowly losing control.

Kim felt the overwhelming need to get out of there—mainly to sort out her feelings—so, leaving it on that awkward note, she tried to erase the kiss from her mind while blurting out, "So, yeah, um, thanks."

Jack smirked, though his face seemed to be turning red as well. "Was that my thank-you present?"

"If you wanted it to be. Okay, now I have to go! Bye!"

She took off like a rocket, speed-walking across the field and heading for her dorms while trying to face the facts.

Kimberly Crawford had _kissed _Jack…

Okay, so it was only a quick peck on the cheek but this just only served as a reminder that her feelings for the brunet, for the forward, for her teammate, for Jack Anderson, were definitely more than platonic.

She'd admitted it.

And it was scaring the shit out of her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, I hope you liked this chapter because a) there was a KICK kiss and b) I stayed up hella late to finish it for you guys. As in, it's…almost 2AM right now in China and I'm still trying to write this for you.**

**Anyway, so many of you are looking forward to CH18—because of the Ricky Disaster's revealing—so I will give you another spoiler. A major KICK moment (which I think you guys will like even more than this one) will occur in CH17. A major secret gets leaked to one of the members of the team in CH17 as well, and in CH16, well…I think you should be able to figure that one out. It's the game!**

**So, now that you have those chapters to look forward to and a little teaser for each one, I hope you look forward to them more!**

**I honestly loved all the reviews I got last time—like I said, just a few words can make my day! Could you all do the same for this chapter?**

**Thanks so much! Review!**

—**Ariana :) x **


	16. History Is Made At Night

**A/N: Thanks for so many reviews! Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter, I recently picked up all my stuff and flew to Beijing. I'll be back in the U.S. on Sunday evening, so updates will probably come more regularly with proper wifi and less distractions.**

**I've been working all day to write this and perfect this for you guys and it's late over here in China, so I'll just let you guys get to the Seaford Dragons vs. Wasabi Warriors game, shall I?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p>"<em>In soccer, everything is complicated by the presence of the opposite team."<em>

…

_—Jean Paul Sartre_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER SIXTEEN: History Is Made At Night<strong>

Jack wasn't sure what woke him up in the morning—for a second, he thought it could have been Jerry, but one look at the bed across from him and he acknowledged that the goalie was nowhere in sight.

He lay back on his pillows, sinking into the soft sheets and rubbed at his eyes, wondering what he had to do today. It was a Saturday, right? No school, no homework. There was most likely a game today, probably at—

His figure straightened immediately, and for a single, nauseating second, he thought he might throw up.

The game—the _big game—_was today.

Tonight.

He stumbled out of bed, swaying dizzily on the spot, a huge wave of nausea almost pulling him under. Jack was no stranger to stress, but hadn't had to play in a game this big and this crucial in two years. This was the game that determined if they went to the playoffs or not, this was the game that determined everything.

Jack sprinted for the bathroom, just managing to get in and lock the door behind him before hunching over the toilet, waiting for himself to throw up.

Nothing happened.

Calming down a bit, relieved that he wasn't going to be sick (and that Kim wouldn't kill him for getting himself ill on such an important day), he crossed over to the sink and breathed in deeply, staring at his reflection. He was Jack Anderson.

He didn't get _nervous._

(And even if he did, he didn't show it.)

His hand reached out and flicked the handle of the sink, and immediately a stream of icy water poured out from the shiny metallic tap. He stood like that for about ten minutes, the freezing liquid just running over his hands, calming him until he deemed himself ready for the day.

As he dressed, he pondered what to do. The game wasn't until early that evening, and he had nearly a whole day to kill before it. Kim was a firm believer in relaxing on game days and usually banned any type of practice, claiming that it stressed you out and tired you before a game. It wasn't a go-ahead to pig out or do completely nothing, but an invitation to stay energized and unstressed. At most, she would allow a light jog or maybe a few casual passes on a field.

Jack would go visit Kim.

The minute he thought her name, his face seemed to burn the slightest at the memory of last night. The kiss meant nothing, right? Just a friendly, grateful gesture between two friends…

Right.

A short walk downstairs and into the opposite dorm later, he saw that the captain's door was ajar. Cautiously, he knocked on it before peering inside. All he saw was a tangle of blankets, knotted and rumpled over a roughly human-sized figure. They rustled slightly at the sound Jack had made, but she didn't turn over.

Grace was nowhere in sight.

"Kim?"

Jack ventured into the room and had to stifle a laugh. Kim was wrapped up so tightly in her comforter that Jack was under the impression she looked quite like a Christmas gift. If she'd had a bow or a ribbon tied around her and it had been Jerry standing at the door instead of Jack, the latter had no doubt that Jerry would have instantly mailed her to Grace or something.

"Hello, California roll," Jack greeted her brightly, smirking.

Kim finally rolled over at the sound of his voice and the odd nickname. "Did you say…_California roll_?"

"Would you prefer sushi roll?"

Kim laughed at this, twisting back over to look at the ceiling. "How about Tennessee roll?"

"Deal," Jack nodded solemnly, before his face broke out into a smile again. "Mind telling me why you're wrapped up in blankets like a Christmas gift?"

"I thought, according to you, that I was sushi."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know," Kim admitted. "I got up and dressed in a daze, saw that Grace was gone. And then I…kind of thought if I wrapped myself up I could protect myself from the rest of the day. You know, if I was under blankets."

"You tried to shut the world out with the power of your comforter?"

When Jack's dubious expression finally got to her, she raised her hands defensively, "I thought it made sense at the time!"

"Well," Jack sighed. "You can't protect yourself until the game by wrapping yourself up like food or a gift. Why don't we isolate ourselves? Let's just go somewhere and relax."

Kim suddenly looked nervous, "…With you?"

Jack's face seemed to blush the faintest shade of pink as he stuttered out, "Well, I mean, if you don't want me, I don't have to go with you, it's just that I thought you relaxing would be good—"

"No, that's not what I meant!" Kim exclaimed quickly. She looked a bit frightened, but she pushed on, "I…er, want you. You know, to go into isolation with me? It'd be lonely without you…and besides, it looks like our best friends have run off with each other as well."

Jack offered her a hand as he stood up. "Well, then it's a date?"

Kim stared up at his offered palm.

Then, she took it, straightening up as well and unwrapping herself. "Sure. It's a…date."

* * *

><p>Kim looked like she was about to throw up.<p>

Normally, that would have been an understatement, but as she checked her reflection in the bus window, she found her cheeks turning the slightest shade of green and her stomach churned, despite the fact that she'd had almost nothing to eat at their early dinner.

The sky was just beginning to darken, shooting its last orange and yellow rays against the purple sky, and the bus rolled back and forth, not doing anything to ease her nerves.

_This was it._

She searched the sky for a distraction, trying to find a star, and felt momentary relief at having spotted a star twinkling in the distance. The world wasn't going to go crazy for this game. Yes, there was a lot riding on the team but this was just like any other game.

…With vicious opponents and fifty tons of pressure on their heads, of course.

Jack, sitting next to her, fixed her with his worried stare and she was suddenly aware of how wimpy she was being. She was the team captain, she was supposed to act brave and cool and confident and here she was, hyperventilating because of a game that hadn't even started yet.

What was wrong with her?

Jack's sudden reassuring smile was surprising, but it was entirely welcome; Kim felt herself relaxing and as the bus pulled into the field complex parking lot, Jack's hand sought out hers for a brief few seconds, squeezing it with the weight of true support.

She stared down at their intertwined hands for a long moment, her feelings flitting between embarrassment and gratitude, before he released it.

"We're going to be fine." Jack's voice was low, shielded from the rest of the team that was working on getting off the bus, but she felt the friendship and the concern in his tone. "Now quit acting scared. You're our captain, Kim. You're brave, you're talented, so act like it."

Kim breathed out, the action coming easier now that she knew that at least one person had her back.

"Thank you," she muttered, "For that kick in the ass. I needed that."

Jack smirked, "You're welcome."

The walk to the field seemed way too short for her liking, and before she knew it the sky was darker and they were on the grass and Ricky was on the other side of the field and she was freaking out again on the inside.

She carefully set down her soccer bag and tightened her warm-up jacket around her, the green material soothing her. The warm-ups went by without a hitch, but as soon as Rudy called for Kim to hurry up and pick a co-captain to do the coin toss, her muscles tensed even more (seriously, she was probably going to snap into a million stressed pieces soon) and she had another problem to consider.

Usually, Kim was careless when choosing co-captains to do the coin toss. After all, it was a simple coin toss, right? Normally, any player on the team would do as a temporary co-captain.

However, this game was different. This time, when she marched up to the center of the field, next to the referees, her opposition wouldn't be someone prissy like the all-high-and-mighty Claire from Swathmore Academy. It would be Ricky Weaver and Donna Tobin. Alone, one of them could already put up a pretty good fight. Together, the blonde and the auburn-headed captains could do so much more. Kim had never been the type of girl to beg someone to fight her battles for her—it just wasn't her style—but she wasn't above asking for a bit of help, a tiny splash of backup.

Kim needed support.

She'd wondered for a long time if she should assign a permanent co-captain—one to point out the flaws in her plans and to give her a kick in the ass if she ever deserved it (which she knew she frequently did), and a person that would help her in situations like this. For some reason, she'd never gotten around to appointing one.

Kim swept her eyes across her team, mentally calculating every single player's strengths and weaknesses when it came to dealing with Ricky and Donna. Eddie, as much as Kim liked him as a friend, had a tendency to crack under pressure and wasn't the confrontational type. Milton and Julie—they were busy, Milton was helping Rudy take inventory or something and Julie was helping.

She considered taking Jerry with her for a fraction of a second before deciding against it. The rest of the team would kill her for that, and it was quite possible that Jerry himself would as well.

Kat would have been a good option—she was confident but not overly so; however, there was the unfortunate incident last time they'd played the Black Dragons the previous season that had ended up with Kim, Ricky, and Kat all in a circle, holding up the game, and the third player simply turning around and punching the second; it was a direct, hard hit to the face that Kim knew must not have been pleasant to receive.

So, Kat and her…_explosive_ temper were out of the question.

Kyle? No. Kelsey? No, she'd be too whiny.

Grace was helping Jerry, giving the latter a pep talk or something (which Kim felt privately was a good thing, she hadn't missed the looks exchanged between the two this season).

Jack was—

Jack?

Kim had not forgotten how cool and calm Jack had been that night at the movies when the two full teams had met up for the first time since the spring season. He'd been peaceful and collected until the other two captains had simply managed to crack the shield forcing back his anger. Kim knew that while Jack often tended to take the diplomatic side at first, if you touched on his temper he got mad as all get-out and sometimes even resorted to violence.

Note to self: don't aggravate Jack Anderson…

She needed Jack there with her—purely because he'd bring the best support. As long as what Ricky and Donna said in front of him wasn't too horrendous, Jack could control his temper, she was sure of it. Besides, Ricky and Donna wouldn't dare to attempt much with referees right in front of them.

Kim tried to ignore the butterflies starting in her stomach, forcefully pushed this morning and the kiss from last night and ten minutes ago from her head, and decided on a direct approach.

Her decision was made.

She crossed over the bench and practically yanked Jack fluidly along with her, never breaking her stride and aiming for a small, invisible path that would take them directly to the referees and Donna and Ricky, all who were already waiting.

"Kim—what?" Jack was plainly confused at her sudden kidnapping of him, and righted himself instantly.

Kim gritted her teeth, trying to erase the blush from her cheeks (she knew what this must look like), "Coin toss. Just stay behind me, don't talk unless you think you have to, and under no circumstances are you ever allowed to bitch slap either one of them. I don't care how tempting it is." At his bemused expression, she added, "What, you've never done a coin toss?"

"I have," Jack struggled as he freed his arm from Kim's tight grip. "I'm just not used to being dragged off by my coin toss partner, I was the captain on my old team."

Kim watched as Donna's delighted smirk grew even wider as her bright green eyes recognized the two players standing in front of them. Donna decidedly ignored the referee's quiet but strong instructions as she quipped at Jack, "Nice seeing you again. What, did Kim make you her co-captain?"

"I doubt it," Ricky snorted before either Kim or Jack could reply.

Kim decidedly ignored the jabs and whispered to the referee, "Heads."

Jack shifted angrily behind her, and she made some sort of peaceful gesture behind her back, trying to signal him to calm the hell down. If Jack got angry, it would only spur the Black Dragons on even more and an emotional Jack playing such a crucial game was not good in increasing their chances of victory. Motivation and passion were good, but anger and fury were not.

They resulted in mistakes.

"Tails, then," Donna muttered, flipping back her auburn ponytail with a careless gesture.

While the referee started tossing the coin, Donna grinned along with Ricky at the latter's previous answer. "I know. Our little Kimmy doesn't like to give up power, does she? Always has to be the blonde with the stick up her butt, always in control? You should really let loose sometime, you know."

Kim was about to reply with a scathing remark, but before she could, Jack's voice spoke up from behind her, the words confident yet disdainful, as if Donna and Ricky were beneath them. "Actually, she did make me co-captain."

The blonde tried to hide her surprise, registering the full weight of the lie the brunet had just told but fully aware that Jack most likely knew what he was doing.

She trusted him, anyway. So far.

"Heads," the referee announced, holding up the coin as evidence.

The surprise emanating from Ricky and Donna, the pair slightly unnerved, was more than enough to create a sense of victory in Kim—not only had Jack managed to yank their secure teasing ground out from under them, the Wasabi Warriors had just won the coin toss. Kim jerked a finger in the direction she wanted her team to start attacking and turned around, considering reaching for Jack's arm before realizing that he knew what to do.

Jack shot the captains in front of Kim another condescending glare before tacking on, "People change, you know, and Kim's one of the ones that changes for the better. You should try it sometime."

This time, it was Jack who took Kim's elbow and started leading her away from the two referees. They continued back to the team, Jack's warm grip on her arm releasing as soon as they were out of earshot. "I think I'm a pretty good liar, don't you think?" Jack grinned, as if they were just holding a casual conversation and weren't on the verge of the most important game of the season so far.

She was caught in his brown gaze for a moment before adding, "I guess. I can't lie worth crap, so kudos to you. Thanks for that, by the way."

"No problem," Jack waved it off. "Anything for you—the team, I meant. Yeah, for the team. We want to win, don't we?"

Jack jogged off in Jerry's direction, leaving Kim with her clipboard, a startled expression, and a slightly more cheerful outlook on the game.

However, that cheerfulness quickly disappeared when she caught sight of Ricky again, on the other side of the field.

As if he knew she was staring at him, the blond captain turned around, smirked knowingly at her, and whipped back around to face his team.

* * *

><p>The game was going…well.<p>

Okay, so yes, the Black Dragons were using every single dirty trick they could possibly think up of, but it was Donna's personal opinion that the game was leaning slightly in their favor.

Oh, who was she kidding?

It had been easier when the Wasabi Warriors had taken all the bait in their previous game against them. The Black Dragons had gotten their blood boiling and the other team had overheated, bubbled over, resulting in a loss because they succumbed to the distractions and the underhanded methods. Their anger had blinded them and their skill, but now?

They were clean. Taking the high road, and even though it sickened Donna, she felt grudging admiration that seemed to seep into her bones and infect her with a nauseating sensation that reminded her of when she was sick and had the flu a few years ago and couldn't stop throwing up.

The auburn-headed captain was taking a rare break on the bench, her head in her hands as she contemplated the team's next moves and the next lineup. She personally wanted to rip all her hair out but she kept it together—for their coach, Ty, who was watching the game closely, for Ricky, hell, for everyone.

There was a chance they could lose.

Donna gritted her teeth as she sat on the bench, her clipboard clenched between her hands so tightly she was surprised that the translucent plastic had not snapped under her killer grip already. A loose, red lock of hair swung in front of her eyes and she slid a bobby pin from her hair, pinning it back with one sweeping motion and trying not to let frustration practically bleed through her fingers.

_They could lose._

The Black Dragons had gone to the playoffs every single year for the last decade or so. They had sponsors that were rich as hell and practically blew their noses with money, they had a fierce coach, they had the best practice conditions, the most up-to-date school and practice technology, and their captains had always had the winning mindset and a thirst for victory.

And yet, this school—Bobby Wasabi Private School, with their Wasabi Warriors that may or may not have had issues of their own—that was their biggest competition right now, and Donna had a sneaking suspicion that the chances of her team winning were diminishing with every single play and every minute that passed. This team, with no special assets except for pure skill and friendship between the players, was their biggest threat.

Their biggest threat was not a team with money, not a team with physical advantage, not a team with revenge in their minds.

Just them.

She looked down for a minute, emerald green eyes flicking towards the grass that had just begun to die out, along with the winter that was gradually approaching San Jose. It was slowly yellowing, and Donna had a fleeting wish that this game would be played on the fields with fake grass, so she could at least see _pretend _perfection instead of raw reality.

"Donna, are you okay?"

Donna looked up to meet Rue, a returning player that was slight but strong, with pale blonde hair cut bluntly to her chin and a personality to match.

They didn't really care, did they?

"I'm fine," Donna growled, her voice coming off harsher than she had intended for it to be. "Sorry. Just thinking about the game. Get some rest, don't get dehydrated. Drink some water."

Rue nodded silently, obediently, and sat back down, slowly inching away from the captain on the bench.

Donna's eyes sought out Kim and Jack on the field, on the opposite side, passing the ball back and forth and dribbling and altogether just being _perfect._ Donna knew Kim was still haunted by what had happened last season but she seemed to be healing with Jack's help, and god, they seemed to be perfect for each other.

Jack. The brunet, with eyes like melted chocolate and skills that rivaled her own, the one she'd been semi-jealous of upon meeting him for the first time. The blonde and the brunet worked seamlessly together, as a team, and even though the game was serious and the Black Dragons were doing everything to aggravate them, she saw identical, slight grins on their faces.

Donna slumped into her seat.

They were actually enjoying themselves, unlike her.

She envied them so much it hurt.

After a long moment, she stood up, crossing over to Ty and raising her piercing green eyes to the field, issuing a command. It came so naturally to her now that she thought nothing of it, though her power, much like herself, was beginning to sicken her.

"Put me and Rue in, take Frank and Ricky out," Donna instructed.

She might have already lost, but she wasn't going down without a fight. She was here for a reason.

Because she, like everyone else on this field, was playing to win.

* * *

><p>"We're tied," Kim repeated, over and over to herself. "We're tied, we're tied, we're tied, one to one, we're—"<p>

"We're tied, okay? I get it!" Julie finally snapped. The blonde's necked arched up and there the brunette was, pulling her light brown hair into a newer ponytail and looking quite annoyed. "Kim, I get that we're tied. I can do simple basic counting. But instead of repeating it over and over again, you might want to find Jerry. He's beating himself up over that goal he let in."

Kim was about to start for the goalie when she realized that Grace had beat her to it.

A shock of jealousy ran through her, humming in her veins like an electrical current before she shut down the entire power plant in her body. She harbored absolutely _no_ romantic feelings towards Jerry, but she couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit bitter that Grace was suddenly Jerry's new best friend. She saw how her friends looked at each other, she knew they liked each other, but before Grace had realized that she was in love with the goalie it had always been Jerry and Kim together, each trying to battle their own demons and the aftermath of their involvement with the Black Dragons.

Kim had hated what they'd had to deal with each together but she missed Jerry, even though on a regular day it would have pained her to admit it as he would probably have found a way to set her pants on fire—literally.

Or teased her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kim saw Julie considering the Grace-and-Jerry situation carefully before suggesting, "Go find Jack. He's the only one that can calm you down."

"No, I don't want to find Jack. He went to the bathroom or something, he's AWOL, and I do _not_ want to go to the porta-potties. The main building is too far away, and those things are death traps," Kim murmured distractedly.

Julie made some sort of snarky comment on how the city couldn't build a luxury bathroom for _every _single field but Kim didn't really listen.

She found Eddie.

The dark-skinned defender was sitting on the grass a little bit apart from the rest of the team, staring out at the field with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms resting on his shins. Kim carefully moved his water bottle out of the way and offered him a small smile, "Hey."

Eddie shot her a look of surprise. "Um…hey?"

"What?" Kim's jaw slackened and she asked, trying to keep emotion out of her voice, "You don't want to talk to me?"

Eddie was quick to deny, "No, that's not it, I'm just…surprised, that's all. You're usually talking to Jack or Grace or Jerry or Milton or Julie during halftime, not me. I'm just…here."

Kim bit her lip and was about to respond with an apology—she _had_ been unintentionally ignoring him this season. She had just opened her mouth when he whispered, "I know this isn't the time or the place to dump this all on you, but…sometimes—okay, no, a lot of the time—I feel invisible. To you, to the team, to everyone."

"Eddie…"

"I knew about Jack's father before it was spread around the school," Eddie cut her off.

Kim stared blankly at him, blinking a couple of times in confusion before whispering, "You…you did?"

"Yeah," Eddie shook his head disdainfully. "Now that I look back on it, I probably should have convinced Jack to tell you all before you had to find out from someone that wasn't him. This was a big secret, it wasn't going to stay hidden—Jack knew that, I saw it in his eyes the morning I found out. But I stayed quiet about it because something about…something about keeping that secret made me feel like I existed."

Kim was silent throughout all this and Eddie shuddered, "It makes me feel disgusting. I indulged myself because I wanted to feel important, in on something that you guys weren't. I should have convinced Jack to tell at least you or Jerry before…that disaster happened. But it didn't."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Eddie." Kim looked down at her hands, ashamed at the lame apology but still struggling to find words, "And I'm sorry we've been ignoring you. We weren't trying to do that."

"I know," Eddie fixed her with a mournful stare, and in that moment he seemed even more like a stranger to Kim than he had on the first day of freshman year, when they had still not known each other. "And I get it. Maybe I don't really like attention, but it's nice to have it every now and then. I'm okay with staying in the shadows."

Kim tried to interrupt, but Eddie pushed on. "It's okay. It looks like the spotlight is taken up by you and Jack again, anyway. It usually always is."

Before she knew it, the defender had stood up and walked away from her, leaving Kim with an overwhelming sense of crushing guilt and the shock, resulting from what she had just learned.

* * *

><p>It was Milton's personal opinion that the Wasabi Warriors, as a whole, were playing well. He himself felt tired, fatigued, but he was still trying his best, still running at top speed, and he felt a hint of his old self coming back, the pressure of the game having no effect on his skills.<p>

His old self. The Milton who had loved academics but still craved being able to sprint on a soccer field and feel the wind in his face, the one that relished the ability to breathe when he was outside.

There had been malice glinting in Ricky's eyes, though, and he didn't like it. Milton was not one to brag about his achievements but he had a sense of how talented he was, what he brought to the team. He was excellent at dribbling and shooting with his left foot, his biggest weapon, and he used it as often as he could.

He had not missed the furtive glances sent in his direction by Ricky and another girl on the Black Dragons during halftime. There had been a pleading look from the girl—was her name Rue?—aimed at Ricky as they discussed something important, and they had kept _looking_ at Milton.

They'd been arguing…about him?

It was freaking him out but he tried to calm himself down, to convince himself that this wasn't one of those movies where they plotted a downfall, and continued to play at his best. The game was tied, after all, and they _had_ to win.

But then he supposed that his instincts had been right, because twenty minutes into the second half, Milton was lying on the side of the field, his ankle twisted in pain while the field medics rushed forward, trying to discuss the severity of the damage done to his leg.

Milton should have seen it coming, really, starting from the first glance Ricky had shot his way during halftime. He had no doubt that Ricky had forced Rue into doing this, into tripping him. He tried to find anger in his heart but all he felt was a heavy sadness that Ricky was that much of a bully, that conniving, so desperate to win that he would deliberately use another player to injure Milton.

It had started off all right. He'd been sprinting along the sidelines in the middle of the second half, running at top speed, dodging midfielder after midfielder when he'd passed by the Black Dragon's team bench.

Rue had been standing near the coach on the edge of the sidelines, posing as a substitute player, but as Milton had sped by her—running as fast as he could, which didn't soften the injury—she'd stuck her foot out, caught the soccer ball, and he'd been sent flying into the air.

He'd rolled his ankle on another "misplaced" soccer ball, and landed on it painfully afterwards.

The medics were now discussing just how much damage had been done to his ankle. It hurt like hell, but they couldn't be sure if it were just a bad sprain or if it were really broken. Either way, he was out of this particular game for good, and it was just what Ricky had wanted.

The teammates that surrounded him offered words of encouragement, promises of revenge, vows to win the game for him, but all Milton could do was stare blankly at the field, at the Black Dragons that all stood in a huddle, and wonder just how desperate a person could get to obtain something they wanted.

He was still staring when the ambulance pulled up to the nearest parking lot.

He barely registered the pain that flared in his ankle as they lifted him into a stretcher, as Rudy assured him that it wasn't anything serious, that they were just worried and that they would be doing a full check-up on him in case that on the off chance, something actually was wrong. Milton's blue eyes were far way, fixed on the tall head covered with short, blond hair.

And Milton couldn't find a single emotion in him as he was rolled into the ambulance. He didn't hear his friends' shouts of reassurance, he didn't hear the men and women talking to him and checking on his condition. It was all just an indistinct buzz, like his hearing had faded.

He just watched the view of the soccer field slowly disappear with every single second, and when they were finally in the ambulance and the vehicle was rolling away, Milton couldn't find a single bit of anger or sadness or regret in him.

He was just tired.

And he just wanted to sleep, to forget.

* * *

><p>"I swear," Jack ground his teeth as they wheeled Milton away on a stretcher, the look in the midfielder's eyes blank, a simple blue stare, "I am going to <em>murder<em> Ricky."

Jack's eyes found Ricky and Donna conversing on the side of the field. Ricky still looked satisfied with himself but the pair was arguing, and Donna didn't look smug or happy or relieved. Instead, she just looked tired—much like Milton had, and as she fought wearily with Ricky, Jack wondered why she looked that way.

She'd just seemed so…_determined,_ to Jack. When he'd first met her, and ever since then, she'd seemed driven by a hunger to win, a thirst for revenge.

Jack had a sudden suspicion that the only reason Donna was still on the team, why she was still what she was, was because of Ricky.

And his dislike for the blond captain of the opposing team grew even further.

"Although thoughts of murder are quite appealing," Kim acknowledged dryly next to him, "It doesn't help. We need to _win._"

"They're still trying to sort everything out," Jerry announced as he popped up behind the pair. "Rue claimed it was an accident, that she'd tripped while doing warm-up exercises and tripped Milton as well. And the ball that was conveniently there was purely _coincidence._"

Jack snorted, "I call compete bullshit on that."

Kim smacked Jack's arm at his language—Rudy was nearby—but her eyes were full of agreement. "I think you're right, Jerry, but it looked to me like she was forced into it."

"By who?" Jerry cocked his head.

"By Ricky, of course," Jack was quick to answer. "It's always Ricky."

Kim rubbed at her temples. "Great. This game already started in the evening and by the time all of this happened, it's going to start getting late."

"We only have about half of a half left," Jerry pointed out. "Twenty minutes, give or take."

Kim nodded, as if Jerry's words had injected steel into her. "Good. Because we are going to _own _the rest of this half, with no dirty tricks and no underhanded methods. We are going to _win,_ fair and square."

And even though the situation looked bleak, with an injured and therefore MIA player and everything that had been going on lately, Jack felt a small spark of hope.

* * *

><p>It was a different feeling, playing at night.<p>

Instead of having the sun beating down on you, your spotlights were huge lights that towered over the fields, bright and powerful, and there were several, not just one. Your shadows were dark and blurry and there were sometimes multiple of them due to the multiple lights. It had a disorienting effect, as if you were a ghost, not really present on the field, just living in the body of someone who was desperately trying to win.

Jack's breath puffed out in little white clouds of cold air now—the temperature had dropped colder than anyone would have expected tonight—but he ran, ignoring the fact that the sun was gone and this was an evening game.

They were going to win, no matter what time of the day it was.

They had three minutes left to make a goal.

The impossibility of the situation threatened to squash Jack with its hopelessness, but he refused to let his spirits drop. The Wasabi Warriors had been playing at their absolute best; it was just that the Black Dragons were very, _very_ good opponents. Their defense was solid, their players were vicious, and either way things could have looked _very_ gloomy.

But Jack was known for being optimistic.

They had time for maybe…one more play, at tops. It was as though the team could sense the urgency of these last few moments.

This was their last game of this official season.

As he finally registered this, a wave of emotions so strong that they nearly knocked him over rolled through Jack.

Even if they got the chance to go to the playoffs, this was their last official game. It wouldn't be the same, playing somewhere else in California with other teams from other cities. He'd been with this team for a season, and he didn't want to leave.

Ever.

Oh, god. Now that he'd realized that this was their last official game of his first season ever with the Wasabi Warriors—in other words, a band of misfits that all had their own issues but still managed to stay tightly together as a team—the need to win overpowered him, blocking all other thoughts out.

He exchanged a glance with Kim, several feet away from him, and an unknown understanding passed between the two forwards.

Grace crossed it the soccer ball, crossed it high. It landed nearly right where Jack's head had been—he bumped it with his forehead and controlled it, before sprinting forward, concentrating all his energy, all his will into these last few minutes.

_One._

Once again, he felt his old mentality come back and despite the seriousness of this situation, he allowed himself a grin.

And that grin was quickly knocked off his face when he was pushed out of bounds, forcefully shoved by another player from the Black Dragons.

Growling, Jack righted himself and stole it back the minute the other team threw the ball in, bouncing it to Julie, who passed it up to a rare opening in the defense. Jack dived forward before the other defender did, aiming for the open stretch of field, and ignored Frank's frustrated yell with a smirk on his face.

_Two._

It was just then he saw how desperate the situation was.

The entire scene blurred in front of his face, smeared the thoughts into his mind onto a canvas. The cheering of students and parents around him, the waving of signs. The fact that they were _tied,_ 1-1, and they had less than a minute left.

He took one more look at the field and knew what he had to do.

Without hesitation, he dribbled forward, towards the goal—straight towards it, no tricky dives, no fakes.

His boldness seemed to surprise the Black Dragons. Slowly, the members of the other team followed him, their frustration growing like building blocks being stacked as he kept the ball away from them while trying to draw everyone else away, away, away from Kim.

Somewhere, he heard a random, unknown girl scream from the stands, being oh-so-helpful: "_Ten seconds, Jack!_"

This game could not end in a tie.

There was that one blissful moment when he just stopped, throwing everyone who was following him off balance, and faked, tipping the ball straight towards Kim, in front of the goal.

The widening eyes of the players all around him told Jack that he'd done the right thing, that he'd managed to trick them, and even as they all began to rush towards Kim Jack knew that they would not get there in time.

Kim was fast, and more importantly, she had wicked aim. She would not miss.

Jack believed that.

…_Three._

The _swish_ of the soccer ball hitting the back of the net seemed to be shrouded in silence. Everyone stopped cheering, for a single second. The entire field had no noise.

Or maybe it was Jack's imagination, as after the ball had landed on the grass _inside_ of the goal, everything exploded into chaos.

They had…

They had won.

The piercing shriek of a whistle cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard, but in that moment that was the best sound that Jack had ever heard in his life—the end of the game, the acknowledgement that they had won, that they were going to the playoffs.

Suddenly, he was being attacked.

It took him several seconds to realize that it was Kim latching onto him tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck so closely that he felt he was being slowly squeezed to death by her gratitude. He hugged her back, arms around her waist, and as they broke apart Kim was saying something about them winning, over and over again, but that didn't matter to him.

In this whole season, that was the happiest Jack had ever seen Kim. Her eyes were alive with excitement, with victory, and her grin was the biggest smile he had ever seen her wear.

She looked beautiful, practically radiant in her ecstasy.

"Jack…we won."

Her voice was soft this time and as the team crowded around them, he knew that she was speaking to him and only to him.

A smile broke out on his face, and he pulled her into another hug.

"I know."

* * *

><p>The field was empty of nearly all of the Wasabi Warriors, as the promise of a victory party held back at campus had prompted all of them to leave in a whirlwind of cheer and victory. They'd taken the trophy back with them on the bus, and the noise had finally died down.<p>

Two figures sat on a team bench together, mostly in silence. The field was littered with ripped up signs and confetti (Jerry had somehow arranged it all, fifty confetti cannons), but the two didn't seem to register it. They were still full to the brim of victory, of happiness, and it was hard to believe that anything could bring them down.

"We're going to be late for our own victory party," Kim finally shook her head, but she couldn't seem to be able to stop the large smile from stretching across her face.

Jack laughed, "No, we won't. Jerry will be stressing over it. And so will half the school. We'll be fine."

They were still in that post-game shock, that dazed happiness, but when Kim turned to Jack she seemed completely sober. "I am going to ask you something, and you are going to _have_ to say yes."

"Then why bother asking?" Jack quipped lazily.

"Because it's something that requires a formal question," Kim snapped at him, but she couldn't even find it in her to be annoyed. "So can I ask you it?"

"Sure."

Kim bit her lip, "Jack…will you be my co-captain?"

There was a long silence, in which the dazed happiness Kim was swimming in started to sink, as if someone was draining it like a pool, and she gave him a sideways glance, her eyes now worried, "Jack?"

"No…I just…why are you asking me?" The forward's eyebrows were drawn together in what seemed to be confusion.

Kim sat back. "Because I couldn't think of anyone better for the job. You've also been a captain before, you've got the experience, you're a good leader, you're…I just need you, okay? I feel like I need you to help me lead the team."

Jack looked down at his hands. "…Of course I will."

The grin nearly split Kim's face in half again, "Thank you!"

"We should probably head back now," Jack suggested when the silence morphed into an awkward cloud of tension for both of them. "I'll see you at the party?"

Kim smiled. "Yeah, of course I'm going. And Jack?"

"What?"

The blonde's dark eyes were dizzy with happiness. "We won. We finally won against them."

Jack sighed, but he still laughed. The two rose from their benches and started for the bus stop together, bags slung over their shoulders, the picture of weary victory.

"I know, Kim. I know."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If I have to be honest, my favorite part of writing this chapter was writing the Donna scene. Yes, it was through the eyes of the enemy, in my opinion, but I can't help but love Donna after what I've written. I know it can't be my horrid writing skills so I'll just admit that I have soft spots for the villains.**

**Yes, yes, they won. I know, I actually let something good happen to our beloved Wasabi Warriors. Well, you'll see what happens soon enough.**

**Holy Christmas nuts, nearly ninety of you have this on author alert. I'm so honored…would you all please make at least an effort to review? Each one makes my day…so I think I'm set in happiness until next year.**

—**Ariana x**


	17. The Higher You Get, The Farther You Fall

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! You guys are absolutely amazing, we cleared 400 this time and I am so, so honored that so many of you approve of this story. Although I think some of you might be getting quite unhealthily obsessed…**

**And to maya21, an anon: the reason that flashforward scene from the first chapter wasn't in the previous chapter was because that wasn't the chapter it takes place in, love. This story is far from over and that scene is in a future chapter. Don't worry, it will appear. **

**I apologize in advance for the sheer number of cliches I use in this chapter, particularly in the JACE scene. I love that couple to death but why was their scene so bad?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p><em>"You can't just beat a team, you have to leave a lasting impression in their minds so they never want to see you again."<em>

_…_

_—Mia Hamm_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Higher You Get, The Farther You Fall<strong>

"Is it true?"

Kat's eyes flicked away from her reflection in the mirror to her roommate's curious face. As she continued to pull on a curled lock of dark hair, Kat asked absentmindedly, "Is what true?"

"That Kim and Jack are dating," Emma rolled her eyes, and Kat did so as well—Emma was a total slave to gossip, though she never partook in it to intentionally hurt anyone. "Honestly, do you listen to what I say at all?"

Kat gave her an uneasy smile, thinking about how listless Milton had seemed when he was carted off of the field in a stretcher hours ago. "Of course I do, it's just that…I've been preoccupied. Worried about Milton, that's all. He's still in the hospital. I think the Black Dragons hurt him really badly, and if he can't play in the playoffs…"

"Of course," Emma nodded slowly. "I heard Julie's with him?"

Kat sighed decisively, "She is."

"You know, for someone who was just involved in the biggest athletic victory of the year, you don't seem too happy," Emma observed as Kat took another look at her reflection and turned away, heading towards her closet.

Kat ran a hand through her newly curled hair as she shrugged on a dark red blazer on top of her black blouse, examining her white skinny jeans and black ankle boots for any imperfections as she did so. "I'm happy. Really."

When Emma didn't look too impressed at her lack of enthusiasm, Kat groaned. "I don't know, I'm just…tired. And I don't really like parties. Speaking of which, are you coming to the victory party? Everyone's invited…"

Emma reached across her bed and snatched up a new script. "Maybe I'll swing by later, but as of right now I'm stuck with Shakespeare as my date. Gotta memorize lines for the new school play, but I'll try to make it."

"Romantic," Kat smirked as she grabbed her cell phone, checking her texts. "Gotta go, Kyle's wondering where I am."

"Where's the party again?" Emma asked as Kat made to leave the room.

"Kinda all over campus, it's the weekend, anyway," Kat shrugged casually, watching Emma's jaw drop as she contemplated all the fun she'd be missing. "The dancing and the food's all in the gym, but there's no curfew tonight. Happy studying!"

She ignored the dirty look Emma shot her and ducked out of the room, laughing at the fresh memory of her roommate's face.

The walk across the campus to the gym was brisk and cold, and her hands gripped the sleeves of her blazer as she ambled along the sidewalk, the dark red color comforting her. There was a smile on her face, normal after such a victory, but as she rubbed at her forearms she thought she could practically _feel_ the scars through the fabric—

There was a figure on the bleachers.

Her breath sped up quickly—she'd been watching _way _too much Pretty Little Liars this semester and it was starting to take its toll on her—before she dismissed it, albeit uneasily. She was halfway along the side of the soccer field, the mysterious person on the opposite sideline where spectators usually sat.

This wasn't some crazy murderer. And it _wasn't_ "A" or anyone even closely related to "A" because again, "A" was _fictional._ Gosh, Jerry was rubbing off on her—and not in a good way.

From this distance, Kat could tell it was a girl. Her back was propped up by the cold metal, her legs drawn up to the bench and she leaned back, her face turned toward the gym and the flashing lights, visible from the high windows, shooting purple shadows across the field. Even from this distance, Kat could hear the pounding music—no doubt chosen by Jerry—and after a long, long moment of studying, she slowly recognized the long hair, the usually hard but now worn eyes, the clothing style, the figure.

She gasped, and not checking to see if the girl had noticed her or not, Kat took off sprinting. She tried to find any emotion in her at seeing that figure but she couldn't _sort_ out her feelings, bursting into the gym and searching for the one person that she needed desperately.

Kat caught his arm and dragged him through the crowd, upsetting several people and ignoring his struggling. As soon as she had tugged him forcefully into an empty science lab, Jack's brown eyes were wild and he spit out, "What the _hell_, Kat? Why did you just pull me away from Jerry for no reason?"

Something in her expression must have tipped him off, because his shock simmered down until he was quiet, waiting for Kat to explain.

She wondered how to phrase this delicately before deciding against it, and simply told him the truth.

"Jack, Donna's here."

A slight flash of shock passed over Jack's face as he tried to find words, and he spluttered quite unattractively for a few moments before repeating, "…_Donna_?"

"Yes, you idiot," Kat rolled her eyes, flicking his head. "Can you not hear me clearly? Donna Tobin, co-captain of the Black Dragons, is _sitting_ on our soccer field and just watching the party! What do we do?"

Jack seemed to consider this extensively, and Kat was about ready to snap once he said, "Does she look like she's going to stir up any trouble?"

"I—well, I mean, I don't know…" Kat trailed off, unsure. She'd been so positive that it had been fury burning through her veins just five seconds earlier but now, as she remembered how Donna was sitting there lifelessly, her confidence self-destructed at a command from her reason. "She was just sitting there, slumped and all slouchy and watching the party lights. Which, by the way, tell Jerry to stop with all the strobe lights because he's going to give some random poor old guy a _heart attack_—"

Jack's thoughtful expression cut her off. "I'll go talk to her."

"What? Are you crazy?" Kat demanded. "She could kidnap you and cut off your balls! And no offense, but if you're in love with Kim, you're gonna need those!"

Jack's weirded-out face forced her to rethink her previous comment and she amended hastily, "I mean, you know, Donna might bite your head off. Figuratively, of course. Just don't go _talk_ to her, for Christ's sake! She might have some psychotic revenge planned! Ricky and the rest of the Black Dragons might be close by with sparklers or something!"

"I think I'll survive," Jack gave her a slightly crooked smile, and Kat involuntarily blushed—thankfully, she didn't think it was visible under the nonexistent lighting. "Just cover for me, okay? I don't think Kim will want to hear that I went to see Donna so when she arrives, tell her that I'm helping a friend with something. I'll be back really soon, don't forget!"

"I don't want to lie to—" Kat began to protest, but by then Jack had slipped out of the chemistry lab and into the hallway.

She watched his silhouette fade, his shadow rippling along the dark hallway until it was no longer visible.

* * *

><p>The brunette twitched as she was led through the winding, twisting halls of the hospital, wrinkling her nose at the sterile smell and the moaning of sick patients. Though she should have felt refreshed from her recent shower, she thought she sensed something crawling up her spine, and a hand reached back to slap the fabric of her shirt as if she could squash the feeling.<p>

Eventually, she reached her destination and said a quick, soft thank-you to the nurse. The nurse had an unsettling look in her eye, but she nodded back at Julie and left them alone.

"Hey," Julie whispered, her voice gentle as she stepped forward hesitantly. She was afraid she'd see that horrifying blank look again, the one he'd worn as he'd been driven off to the hospital. "How are you feeling?"

Milton's familiar blue eyes focused on her, and she actually breathed a sigh of relief; the blankness was gone, replaced by an expression that was just simply exhausted. "Fine. Doctors did a checkup on me, the worst thing I have right now is a pretty bad sprain. If I heal quickly, I should be able to make the playoffs—" Milton paled, "Wait! Did we even win?"

He actually covered his eyes dramatically as if he were afraid to know the answer, and Julie couldn't help but giggle—yes, this was the boy she'd fallen in love with, not the one that had dark circles under his eyes and questionable reflexes half the time. "Yes, Milton, we won. You can pull your hands away from your face now."

She felt the hard shields she'd built into her personality break down at the sight of him in the hospital. Every disagreement they'd ever had seemed stupid and petty to her now, and her attempt at a transformation felt like the biggest mistake she had ever made.

This felt natural.

"Ha, I was just joking," Milton smirked at Julie's confused face. "Rudy called me while you were on your way. He was ecstatic. I think he's treating his cat to a candlelit dinner now."

Julie shook her head with a laugh, "No, he's probably getting high off of all the fruit punch at the victory party. The principal actually agreed to let us have a _victory_ party, can you believe it?"

"What?" Milton looked outraged. "That is disturbing to students when they need to be studying and resting! I protest against this!"

"So," Julie asserted, "you secretly wanted to go."

Milton looked defeated, "Um…yeah."

Julie chuckled and stared at his face, taking in every single familiar detail. She'd missed this, being able to talk with him easily. Things had been so tense this season that she'd forgotten almost what it felt like to relax, to be able to laugh with _him._

"Wait, am I keeping you from the party?" Milton suddenly asked guiltily. "You can go have fun, if you want. I'm still stuck here for the night, they want to keep me here in case something else might be wrong. I think they were talking about something. But they gave me some sort of painkiller drug, so I feel pretty great now."

Julie was about to reply when a nurse knocked on the door. Julie's head snapped toward the door and the nurse stepped in apologetically, "Miss Alexander, may I speak to you for a minute?"

"Um…sure?" Julie stood up awkwardly, shooting Milton an _I-don't-know_ look in response to his questioning gaze. She got up from her chair and followed the nurse into the hall, where she flipped several pages on her clipboard.

"You're Julie Alexander, Milton Krupnick's girlfriend, right?" the nurse checked.

Julie nodded slowly.

"I understand you two go to a boarding school, and we've been trying to contact his parents to no avail. Would you say that you know him very well?"

"I did—I mean, I _do."_ Julie caught herself. "I know Milton better than a lot of people."

The nurse bit her lip before looking down at her clipboard. "We did a full-body check on him, just to see if things were running smoothly when we were still afraid he had a break in his ankle. We discovered methylphenidate in his bloodstream, not a lot but still enough to get our attention."

In response to Julie's blank, shocked stare, the nurse attempted to clarify, "Methylphenidate is more commonly known by another name—"

"Ritalin," Julie whispered, her voice cracking. "I know."

The nurse's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she continued, "Ritalin is a Schedule II narcotic, Julie—it has the same classification as cocaine, morphine, and amphetamines. It's well known for its stimulant effects…do you have any idea why he would have this in his body?"

Julie's hearing faded out until she was just staring at the ground, phrases and facts running through her body. Ritalin, or methylphenidate, was in the same category as _amphetamines._ Amphetamine was a powerful central nervous system stimulant, often called "speed". Ritalin was the most popular with people who were diagnosed with ADHD—and teenagers, who needed a wake-up call or needed to focus.

Milton had been taking _Ritalin_ this entire semester.

And it was illegal.

She felt herself slipping into lying mode, and looked at the nurse with such intensity that the nurse stepped back, the lies rolling easily off her tongue. "We had a pretty pressurizing game today, and Milton wanted to take some Tylenol for a headache. He went to my friend Jerry for it, and my friend Jerry has ADHD so he also probably had Ritalin. Jerry's also perpetually confused, so I'm sure it's possible that he accidentally mixed up the pills or something and Milton wasn't being careful."

The nurse was silent for a long moment and Julie added, "Milton doesn't need Ritalin, if that's what you're thinking. His grades are top-notch, best in the class along with me. He would never abuse it."

"All…alright," the nurse nodded along slowly. "I actually do believe you."

Julie breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"But we're going to be keeping a close eye on him," the nurse warned. "If we find any more traces of it in his system, we're going to have to start asking questions."

Julie met her eyes with a steely glare. "Understood."

A minute later, Julie walked jerkily back into Milton's room. He smiled at her appearance but it quickly disappeared once he saw the expression on her face. "Jules, what's wrong?"

She cast a glance around the room; there were no security cameras, nothing to give them away. The full weight of his secret, revealed to her, settled on her shoulders so heavily she thought it might crush, but she tried to stay calm.

He'd been taking _drugs._ He'd been taking _Ritalin._

Her strong façade slowly broke away as she stared at his tired figure in the hospital bed. "Ritalin, Milton? Why? I lied for you, but you have to stop."

All of the blood seemed to have drained out of Milton's face. The midfielder paused, unsure of how to proceed, and finally whispered, "They found methylphenidate in my bloodstream, didn't they?"

Julie could only nod.

Milton sighed, leaning back on his pillows and Julie waited.

"I've been feeling really stressful this semester, so I thought that I would try Ritalin once," Milton shook his head. "I stole a pill from Jerry's supply—you know, because he has ADHD—and at first, I thought it wouldn't work…but it did."

"And you've been taking it ever since?" Julie's voice wavered.

Milton shook his head before it fell into his hands and she thought she saw tears forming. "It was so _easy._ I took a bottle, then another, from Jerry. He's confused, he thought that he misplaced them and dismissed the problems. It made studying so much easier…but I guess you saw the side effects."

"I did. You were always tired, you've been losing weight, you've been distracted…" A beat. "Milton, you have to stop. I told them a lie—I told them that you were going to get Tylenol from Jerry during the game and that he also has Ritalin, and well, you can guess the rest—but you _have_ to stop. The nurse bought it for now but if they ever find any more in your system, you're done. Milton, _please._"

Milton looked at her with sad, broken blue orbs. "I don't know if I can. It'll be hard, Julie. You know that."

Julie leaned forward and kissed him for what felt like the first time in weeks, pressing her lips to his for a brief second before pulling away. Her hand found his and he clutched onto her fingers like a lifeline.

"Who said I wasn't going to help you?"

* * *

><p>The cold snap of air hit Jack like a slap to the face—the night was unusually chilly for the typical California weather—and as he started toward the fields, he saw Donna just like Kat had described, on the bleachers watching the gym.<p>

His sneakers squeaked as they hit the field and began to cross it; the sprinklers had just finished going off and it was a tad slippery, little drops of water dotting the grass. Why they would need sprinklers in the fall, this close to winter, was a mystery to Jack but he supposed the Bobby Wasabi Private School was known for being weird.

"Thought I was Kim?" Donna asked wryly as she caught sight of Jack, her manner unruffled as if she'd been expecting him the entire time, as if this were a pre-arranged meeting and completely normal. The auburn-headed captain was dressed casually, in a long beige coat and dark skinny jeans to protect against the cold night. She stood up, brushing herself off as her black boots clicked against the cold metal.

"Actually, no, I didn't," Jack replied warily, taking in Donna's weary voice, the nonexistent fight in her eyes and her stance. "I came here because I knew it was you."

Donna spread her arms lazily, indicating the soccer field in one sweeping motion. "Welcome to the party out here!" she called loudly, her voice echoing across the field before its volume dropped down to a conversational level again. "Attendees: me. And you, potentially."

"Am I invited?" Jack raised an eyebrow with a slight smile, plopping down next to her on the bench.

Donna's smile seemed to fade, but she kept up their playful tone. "Sure."

"Geez," Jack shook his head, his eyes sweeping over the wet field as he tried to make conversation. "It's getting near winter already, why don't they turn off the sprinklers? It's not really like anything is going to grow anymore…"

Donna scoffed, "Actually, that was the last official watering of the fields this year. They're turning the sprinklers off permanently after tonight. Happens every year, unless I'm mistaken. Really stupid."

Jack raised his eyebrows at her knowledge, "And you would know this because…?"

Maybe she really was here to act out some twisted revenge plan and he was falling right into the trap by opening up to her, but Donna looked to him like she didn't really mean any harm, like she'd been defeated long before she'd ever arrived at Bobby Wasabi's soccer field. And wasn't light conversation okay in either circumstance?

Donna seemed to be debating over whether to tell him something or not, and finally she exhaled slowly, the motion sending a white cloud puffing into the freezing air. "I used to attend this school."

"What?" The surprise in him had come out as a single word, with a million questions packed into it like additional baggage. "You used to go here?"

"Once upon a time," Donna nodded with a mysterious smile on her face. "But that was freshman year."

"So you knew Kim," Jack asserted.

Donna's face hardened into a mask, "Something like that. I'll just say that there was a lot of competition, and we've never really healed from it since. There's a reason I go to Seaford Prep now, Jack. It's not because I adore the classroom décor over there."

There was a long, drawn-out silence before he turned to her fully and asked, "Why are you here?"

"To offer congratulations," Donna replied sarcastically, and when he gave her a _let's-be-real_ look, she amended her previous reason, looking down. "Or something like that. I did hear you were made co-captain after the game." At Jack's surprised expression, she laughed, the action sounding something like music, "Yeah, word travels fast. You don't need to be scared of me, you know. I'm not going to bite your head off, I'm way too tired for that. Tired of fighting."

She was now giving off the impression of a broken angel, falling from heaven, and it was scaring Jack.

Jack raised his eyebrows, "You're not going to attack me?"

"No," Donna sighed and leaned her head back, her eyes directed towards the stars like spotlights trained to find performers on a stage. "Like I said, I'm way too tired for that. It's usually Ricky's idea…I just play along like the obedient, seductive girlfriend that always does his bidding."

At the mention of Ricky, Jack snapped back into an upright, sitting position, banging his knee loudly on the bleachers but not finding any reason to care, "Speaking of Ricky, can you tell me something?"

"Depends on what it is."

"What happened last season?" Jack hedged. "Between your team and Kim, I mean. Kim said she would tell me eventually but it doesn't look like she will, and I guess I'm just curious—Donna?"

Donna's face had crumpled at the mention of last season and when she finally opened her mouth, she didn't say words that Jack wanted to hear. "I can't tell you what happened last season, Jack. It's not because I don't like you—because I actually kind of do—it's because it's not my place to tell Kim's side of the story. I'm not proud of what we did. But I will say one thing."

Jack waited.

"When you're a Black Dragon, there's nothing else that matters except winning," Donna told him seriously. "First, it's the coaches that tell you that, they teach you it. Then it infects the captains, and soon everyone is telling you to do whatever you have to do to win. Our school has an unhealthy obsession with being the best. _Winning is everything,_ they always say. It consumes you, it drives you to do crazy things."

"Then why don't you quit?" Jack asked before he could stop himself.

Donna didn't miss a beat. "Because, sadly, I think I love that bastard that calls himself my boyfriend and a captain. I've been through a lot with him. And no matter what you think, he's going through a lot."

Jack remained mute for a minute that seemed to stretch out into eternity, the seconds pulled and twisted longer and longer until the silence began to feel uncomfortable. Donna had changed so much from the person he'd met at the movie theater for the first time and now. She was still the same person, just stripped down to her actual thoughts and actions, not the ones Ricky and the rest of her team had wanted her to show.

She'd just wanted to win everything—the game, the glory, the boy.

And it had slowly been destroying her.

A text from Donna's phone pulled them out of their little timeless bubble, and the captain's green eyes seemed no longer catlike and dangerous to him like they had at the beginning of the semester—they just looked exhausted, like a normal girl's, like someone who had seen too much insanity and cruelty in the world and would be quite content to just have it all end sometime soon.

"That's Ricky," Donna shook her head. "He's wondering where I am. I have to go. It was nice talking to you, though. Tell Milton I really do regret what Rue did to his ankle, and I hope it heals soon."

Jack didn't make any attempt to stop her, but as she hopped down onto the freshly watered grass, Jack called down, "What does this conversation change?"

"Nothing."

At Jack's slightly crestfallen gaze, the auburn-headed player amended, "It might change your opinion of me. It might change my opinion of you, but the fact remains that you're a Wasabi Warrior and I'm a Black Dragon." Donna's hands wrapped her long coat tighter around herself, hugging her body. "The next time we see each other, I'll still have to try to break you, to beat you. I'm still going to go to Seaford Prep and practice with the Black Dragons. It doesn't change anything, and I'm starting to think I'm sorry for that."

She turned around to go, but Jack suggested, "It's not too late to quit the Black Dragons, Donna."

The retreating player's footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second, but before Jack could say anything more she turned around and remarked, "I think that maybe it is."

Jack didn't say another word as Donna walked across the rest of the soccer field, got into a car in the parking lot, and drove away back to Seaford Prep.

* * *

><p>Oh, this was not good.<p>

Jerry gritted his teeth as he watched the brunette and the blond twenty feet away, from the DJ stand, the two having some sort of argument as they danced close to each other. Grace jerked her wrist adamantly away from Randy's grip, and even though the music was loud and nearly the whole school was on the dance floor, Jerry could only see the two.

Randy was going to stir up trouble.

Normally, the students packed around the pair would have noticed that Randy was practically trying to grind himself against Grace, but everyone was infected by the music, the flashing lights, and the punch that had entirely too much sugar in it. No one but Jerry seemed to be noticing the fight that was starting to turn physical, and Grace looked like she was about to take out the boy that was starting to touch her in some very inappropriate—

"Eddie!" Jerry barked immediately, before softening his snappy voice and sending an apologetic glance towards the defender. "Sorry. Eddie, can you take over picking songs for a moment? I have to go check up on something."

Eddie looked wholesomely confused, but after he met Jerry's meaningful gaze and followed the direction of his killer glare, he took over without a word, sending Jerry a tight nod.

_"Go."_

In an instant, Jerry had bolted off of the stand and was now elbowing his way through the huge mass of students. A slight crowd had started to form around Grace and Randy now that the situation was getting more serious and since there was a strange absence of teachers from the gym, Jerry took it upon himself to push through the border.

As he got close enough to hear what Randy was whispering in her ear, Jerry's blood started to boil: "C'mon, babe. Let's get out of here, we can go to my room or we can just go to an empty classroom, I just—"

Grace yanked her wrist away from Randy's unrelenting grip, her eyes clearing in relief at the sight of Jerry. "Let me _go,_ Randy! Just leave me the hell alone!"

When Randy made yet another grab for her, Jerry spoke up, his arms folded tightly across his chest to keep himself from just flat-out punching Randy in the nose. "You heard what she said, Randy. _Leave her alone._"

Randy shot him a dirty look. "Excuse me? Who do you think you are, asshole? I swear, I'm going to—"

"I'm Jerry Martinez," Jerry replied, his anger barely controlled under his façade of calm. "Dancer, goalie of the soccer team, and a friend to Grace. She doesn't want to go anywhere with you, so unless you want to cause even more trouble I suggest you _let her go._"

Grace managed to kick Randy in his sensitive area for good measure, and the blond whimpered in pain, dropping to the floor.

"That works too," Jerry said cheerfully, before leaning down slightly to look Grace in the eyes. "You okay? He didn't do anything really bad, right?"

Grace shrugged uncomfortably, but her eyes lit up now that she was in the arms of someone who _wasn't_ going to molest her. "Not really, but I have a feeling that if you didn't come he would have dragged me off. Thanks."

Jerry cast a look at the other students—some of them were shooting him grins and thumbs-up signs, some of them had just returned to dancing like nothing of importance had happened. "Let's go somewhere quieter to talk," Jerry sighed, rubbing his temples. "And I promise that _I_ won't rape you."

A laugh escaped Grace's lips, and soon they were in an empty classroom, leaning against desks and talking about the whole thing.

"I'm just…I feel so disgusting," Grace shuddered, and she swatted at her clothes as if that would get rid of Randy's touch. "Like I'm just some slut, or someone easy that he can get to—"

"You're _not,_" Jerry said forcefully, with an intensity that shocked even himself.

Grace's alert, brown eyes were wide, and he found himself thinking about how much they sparkled in the sun, when she was playing soccer, or—sometimes—when she was looking at him. "You're amazing, Grace. You're not a slut, or a skank, you're definitely not easy, and you're…amazing."

Her eyes had softened, and he actually thought he saw a blush form in her cheeks, coloring the pale skin red underneath, "Really?"

"Really," Jerry laughed in exasperation, "I mean, any idiot could see it. Even me. You're charming, you're smart, you're amazing, you're a good person, you're beautiful—"

And before he knew it, Grace's lips were on his and his mind had effectively shorted out.

He found himself strangely okay with that.

After a few seconds, she pulled away, biting her lip nervously and even though Jerry wanted to burst into a happy dance and kiss her again—because, well, _Grace had just kissed him!_—she voiced something that had evidently been bothering her for a while, stopping that train of thought. "We're never going to be in the spotlight, are we?" she asked thoughtfully. "Not like Jack and Kim."

Jerry tilted his head to the side, "…No, I guess not. They were practically made for attention."

"I thought so," Grace nodded with resolution. "But I'm also okay with that…if you are, of course."

Jerry smiled at her, feeling as if his heart would explode (actually, that would be kinda gross but cool at the same time). "Of course I am."

She grinned and kissed him again.

* * *

><p>Kim's smile grew even wider as she watched Jerry and Grace enter the gym after a period of time. Her dark brown eyes zeroed in on their hands, which were intertwined, and she turned to Kat, who had noticed as well.<p>

"Do you think they kissed?" Kim asked hopefully.

Kat laughed at her expression, "I hope so."

Kim nodded, content, before her thoughts turned serious. "Where did you say Jack was again?" Kim asked Kat, the defender suddenly stopping in her slightly swaying movements. "He's been missing for nearly ten minutes now, I'm just wondering—"

"I'm here!" Jack gasped dramatically from behind her.

The brunet had just shoved his way through what seemed like the entire student body and now he was in front of her, looking apologetic. Kim could feel the cold weather on his clothes, the chilly air outside radiating off of him. "Sorry, I was helping a friend with something."

Kim shook her head, a bit bemused at his sudden appearance, "No, it's okay."

"Do you want to take a walk?" Jack asked hopefully, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Kat shot her a knowing smirk and melted into the crowd, so now they were alone.

"Sure."

The walk—or, more accurately, battle—to get to the entrance of the gym again was slow and tedious, and as she walked with Jack by her side she saw dirty looks coming from some of the more experienced dancers. She caught a few repeats of, _"This is my _jam!_" _and despite herself, she had to grin.

Jack, however, was shooting her confused looks every now and then. "Why are they all staring at you and saying that?"

"Let's just say that during my first school dance here, I proved that I could clear an entire room within thirty seconds," Kim declared somewhat proudly. "And no, I don't use farts like Jerry, Milton, or Eddie—I'm a horrible dancer. And they haven't forgotten."

Jack laughed, looking slightly relieved. "Oh, well that's better than I thought. Don't worry, I'm a horrible dancer as well," he shrugged with a lighthearted grin.

She felt her breath catch.

Wordlessly, as soon as they hit the glass doors they headed towards the soccer fields, conversation mostly nonexistent between them as they were both lost in their personal thoughts. They somehow managed to end up near one of the goals—in fact, it was the same goal that Kim had comforted Jerry in front of earlier that season when he'd been freaking out.

They stared up at the stars for a long time, comfortable in the silence, and just as Jack seemed like he was going to say something, she just had to open her mouth and go first, asking something she was getting more and more curious about.

"Do you miss Dallas?" Kim asked him quietly.

He blew a gust of air out of his lungs, exhaling deeply as he looked up, leaning against a goalpost. She saw the reflection of the night sky in his eyes, at all the twinkling stars that appeared in his chocolate-brown orbs. "Well, yeah. I grew up there, and even though it gets as hot as hell in the summer, I do miss it. It was my home."

"Was?" Kim didn't miss the past tense he'd used.

"Well, I think of Bobby Wasabi as my home now," Jack shrugged, unperturbed. "I love this school, and I want to stay here and finish school before I go to college. And then I might move to California, because I am in _love_ with its weather…"

Kim giggled along with his laughter, and they fell into a companionable silence before Jack questioned, "Do you miss Tennessee?"

"Sometimes," Kim's eyebrows drew together and she chose her next words carefully. "I miss my friends that still live there, but some things are difficult…"

"Your family." It wasn't a question, but a statement. She remembered how she'd told him about her parents that had shut her out and her sister that had fallen into depression, her own blood sister, the supermodel-gorgeous one, that had been diagnosed with anorexia and had lost so much weight in a frightfully short amount of time. "Yeah."

There was another question she was dying to ask, but she was afraid it would be insensitive to do so. She debated between throwing all caution to the winds and asking it or minding her own business and keeping her mouth shut, and was just about to dismiss it when Jack nodded, "Go ahead."

"Wh—what?"

"You want to ask me a question," Jack smiled wryly. "Go ahead, I can see that it's practically burning you up from the inside."

Kim wondered when Jack had started being able to read her so easily but then she decided to accept his talent grudgingly—Jack had always seemed to have that uncanny ability to get inside her head, to read other people's emotions without the slightest trouble—not just her own.

"Are you ever sad?" Kim asked cautiously, a hand on a post of the goal. "When you think about your dad?"

Jack pondered her question carefully before truthfully replying, "No. I get way too angry just thinking about him. I know it sounds bad, but I'm glad he's dead. He didn't deserve to live either way."

When Kim remained silent, Jack turned around and lifted up the back of his shirt. "Do you see that scar?"

Kim examined his back closely with the air of a little kid who was searching for Waldo in a book. "Yeah. It's faint, but…yeah, I see it."

"I got that from my dad when I was six years old," Jack informed her bitterly as he turned back around and the shirt fell back into place. "The night he went completely insane. He…he nearly killed my mom and I. I got that scar from when I was trying to run away and he threw a knife at me."

Kim's eyes rounded in shock and her mouth opened, and Jack hurriedly cut her off, "I shouldn't be complaining. I could have gotten much worse. He was drunk, so his aim wasn't that good, but he still managed to land a knife in my lower back, to the side. If it had been any higher or more to the middle I could have some serious damage today. I should be grateful, really. It's just hard not to feel bitter, you know?"

"I'm…I'm so sorry," Kim shook her head, unable to find more words to describe what she was feeling. It wasn't pity—Jack would have killed her for pitying him. He didn't want pity, he just wanted someone to listen.

"Don't be," Jack waved it off. "It's why I started taking karate and soccer, as soon as I was old enough."

"You know self defense?"

Jack admitted, "I know a bit, but that's not my point. My point is that I have a reason for being glad for my dad's death. You may not see it as justice, but I do. Anyway, enough about that. What do you want to talk about? Something…lighter than insane psychotic dads, of course."

His tone was conversational, joking, but Kim still saw how it pained him to say the words.

"Um…well, we won our final game of the season."

An amused grin lit up Jack's features, "Uh huh."

"And we're going to the state playoffs in a couple of weeks." From underneath her eyelashes, she watched him closely, unsure of whether to say what was currently running through her mind.

"Yep."

Kim looked up at him, attempting to calm her racing heartbeat. "Thank you."

"Me? You've been saying that a lot lately, Kim, but I still don't really know what you're thanking me for," Jack chuckled lazily.

"For being a great teammate when I wasn't. For encouraging me, for listening to all of my problems. And for agreeing to become my co-captain. I can be a real piece of work," Kim warned. "I think it might be fair to tell you beforehand, in case you still want to back out. Rudy can barely stand me. You're going to have to be tough…"

"That I am," Jack laughed. "And I'm sure that I can handle you without snapping. We'll be great together."

She smiled, "I know."

There was a long silence before Jack whispered, "I really, really like you, Kim."

She flinched at his confession.

The last time Kim had gotten into a romantic relationship with someone, they had twisted her and used her and hurt her friends. There was always the off chance that he was like Ricky, but every single time she looked at Jack, she believed—or wanted to believe—that he was different.

But she was still afraid to let herself go completely, to fall, to trust.

"Do I think too much?" she wondered out loud, turning to look him in the eyes.

Jack held her gaze in silence, his lack of response a sufficient answer to her random question.

And, throwing all caution to the winds, with nothing left to do and all too much to lose, she kissed him.

It was slow, at first. She was just grateful that he didn't push her away or stop the kiss—instead, he kissed her back. The air around them was chilly but there seemed to be a burning warmth in her chest, building up until she was wrapping her arms around his neck and his hands were around her waist and she felt like she would explode from all the emotions bouncing around in her like ping-pong balls.

Every single cliché her mind could recall was forming into reality right here, and she was ecstatic and scared shitless at the same time.

The overwhelming need to _breathe,_ to take in oxygen, pushed up to the forefront of her mind and she broke away with a gasp. She ended up with her back propped against the goalpost, Jack looking down at her with both his hands above her head, leaning on the post as well. His brown eyes were lit up, even in the darkness, and his smile was wide.

"That was…unexpected," he cocked his head to the side as the smile refused to leave his face.

Kim's face fell, "I'm sorry, was that not…appropriate? I know it was really sudden and everything and I'm sorry if you didn't like it and I just think I really like you and—"

She nearly missed the huge grin that had not left his face for a single second.

"You know, you do think too much," Jack nodded decisively. "I officially declare that Kimberly Crawford thinks too much."

Kim laughed, and allowed herself to melt into an embrace, wrapping her arms him and feeling him hug her back. She tilted her head up to look at the stars, propping her chin on his shoulder, and finally looked at his eyes.

It felt relaxing, to be able to let go so much. She'd felt so tense lately, like she was about to snap, and for the first time in months she breathed.

She really, truly breathed, really felt conscious of the air whistling down her throat, and actually enjoyed it.

* * *

><p>On the other side of town, in a old, dilapidated warehouse, a woman with stringy, unkempt blonde hair stood next to a man.<p>

The man was strapped to something that was supposed to resemble a hospital bed, his limbs writhing in pain as she attempted to heal him. His legs strained and kicked at the dirty, soiled sheets that had once been a blinding white, the numerous injuries on his body making her wince every single time she took even a glance at him.

The woman had a fleeting urge to kill the man. Just to end it, once and for all.

But there'd be revenge. _I've learned that the hard way,_ she reflected as she touched the gash on her cheek, watching him thrash around in the obvious agony from the wounds.

She shot a vial of painkiller into his bloodstream, hoping that even though it wasn't a lot, it would dull the pain that he was feeling, because her survival depended on his satisfaction. If she acted out again, one more time, she'd be killed in the blink of an eye.

After all, he had other people. She was dispensable.

In that moment, his eyes opened, the startling shade of blue in his orbs scaring the hell out of her. She stumbled back with a surprised yell, a hand scattering the tools on a nearby cart, watching the eyes that held something so much darker than their color.

His hand plunged into the pocket of his ruined pants, pulling out a scrap of paper. He held it out to her with a shaking arm, and soon the spasms took over again, and his mind was once again lost to the distorted world that came with painkillers.

She slowly unfolded the piece of paper and read the two words that were scrawled there with an unsteady hand:

_Follow him._

The paper was crumpled in her fist as she threw it to the side, striding to the warehouse doors and flinging them open, exposing herself to the chilly San Jose night.

She had to obey.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As you can see, this was the victory/aftermath chapter where all our couples in this story were addressed—namely, KICK, JACE, and MILLIE. And my MILLIE shipper heart exploded. Milton, taking stimulants illegally. My poor baby, I love you. As for the ending, it was quite stupid but I can't have pure, entire sickly sweet chapters or else I'll go insane. This particular plotline shouldn't be mentioned again until the sequel…so I guess I left you hanging for nothing. Sorry?**

**This chapter would have been out earlier for you guys except that I've been kind of busy planning out the sequel to this story, "Victory In Sight". It's making me deliriously happy right now, so I think I might be squealing as I write all the summaries of the chapters out. I don't want to give too much away but it will contain certain elements from "Pretty Little Liars", and it should be out on exactly 1/1/2013…providing that I can finish this story by the end of the year. **

**Another thing about reviews: honestly, please review. Reviews motivate me, and reviews also give me inspiration on some future chapters. There are nearly 100 of you who have this story on alert! If every single one of you, plus all the anons, reviewed, I could have over 100 reviews on each freaking chapter! Do you know how flattering that would be? **

**So, I understand if you don't have time, but I'm asking you to please, _please_ review, even if it's just a few words. You should probably review on this chapter more than the other ones, anyway, because the Ricky Disaster is revealed next chapter… ;) **

—**Ariana x**


	18. What All Is Said And Done

**A/N: I don't say this enough, but I appreciate you guys more than you know. Your reviews light up my days, and I want you all to know that. Thank you so, so much. And to an anon reviewer who asked how old I was, I'm fourteen years old.**

**I feel a bit scared because I put so much emphasis on the Ricky Disaster and now I feel that it made too big a deal out of it and you're expecting something juicy and/or violent and I won't be able to deliver it and it'll be a disappointment. I spent nearly half an hour just _organizing_ the conversation between Jack and Kim because it contains so many little details and I'm sorry if it's extremely disappointing. It takes up nearly half the chapter. **

**But, read anyway?**

**There is also an extremely important A/N at the end, so I'd appreciate if you read it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

* * *

><p>"<em>The person that said 'winning isn't everything' never won anything."<em>

…

—_Mia Hamm_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: What All Is Said And Done<strong>

"We," Kat laughed airily, "Are totally insane."

They were lying on the soccer field at 1AM in the morning, so maybe calling them insane hadn't been totally false. And if that wasn't crazy enough, they'd been spinning around and around in circles, high on their victory, until they had finally collapsed and the swirling vision had stopped.

Kyle's bright blue eyes, the glimmers of the vibrant color just visible in the dim light of one of the lights from the parking lot, managed to twinkle at her. "I think we are, but it wouldn't be any fun to be sane, would it?"

"Totally," Kat hummed, shifting in her red blazer into a more comfortable position and looking up at the stars.

The party had ended a couple of hours ago but still they were outside, reveling in the no-curfew rule that was so rarely enacted upon the students.

Slowly, Kyle's right hand grabbed her left, but she felt too tired to make some sarcastic comment or blush crazily. Plus, it felt nice, and they lay there in silence for a long time, the sounds of the party long gone, before his fingers pushed up the sleeve of her blazer.

Her breathing immediately quickened and on reflex, she yanked her hand away, sitting up abruptly and staring at him, "What are you doing?"

Kyle sat up slowly as well and as if he were asking permission, he took her hand back. Kat's arm twitched, and she yearned to just tug it away again, but this was Kyle and if she couldn't trust him, she couldn't trust anyone.

"Why do you do it?" he asked, looking at the scars.

So much for being lighthearted.

She sucked in a deep breath and tried not to scream as his fingers lightly traced over the lines she had cut into her skin with a blade. No one had ever gotten this close to her damaged arm, let alone touched it, and letting him feel the wounds she had dragged into her own flesh made her want to shriek and run away.

"It…helps," Kat bit her lip, looking down at the thin lines criss-crossing over her tanned skin. "Keeps me sane."

"This?" Kyle pointed to her forearm incredulously. "_This_ keeps you sane? Cutting yourself, scarring yourself every single night? You've got to be kidding me, Kat."

Kat gritted her teeth. "It's a routine. It's _normal_ now. I can't just _stop, _Kyle. You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, of course I don't understand," Kyle mimicked in a tone that was scarily similar to hers. "So what, do you want me to drag a razor across my left arm too? Just to _understand_ how you feel? Because I'm considering doing that, so I can see what's so appealing about this."

"Kyle!" Kat exclaimed, stung that he would even bring it up. "Don't you dare! That's different!"

Kyle's blue eyes were steely with anger. "Oh, so it's not okay for me to hurt myself, but it's okay for you to do _that_ to yourself?"

"You just—you don't get it, okay?" Kat's head fell into her hands. "I _need_ this. It's _routine._ I don't know what happens if I stop doing it because I'm used to it. It makes me feel normal the rest of the time."

"_Try to stop,_" Kyle told her urgently. "Because if you don't, this is going to stop you."

She couldn't resist a retort. "From what?"

"I guess we'll have to see," Kyle snapped. "But I seem to care about your life more than you do, and I guess it could stop you from living. Or, you know, you could end up in a hospital. _Again._"

* * *

><p><em>Breathe.<em>

_In. Out._

_In. Out._

Kim had to steady herself in spite of the massive wave of emotions threatening to drown her at this very moment. Breathing suddenly seemed unusually hard for her, and as she struggled to pull air into her lungs and fully feel the oxygen whistle down her throat, she tried to remember everything, straining the edges of her memory for bits of info.

She'd experienced another stupid nightmare last night. If you asked her to recall anything from it, she wouldn't have been able to offer you shit—all she knew was that it involved her, Jack, and a little something that was all too familiar to her by now.

_Betrayal. _The feeling of a metaphorical knife in her back—or, for all she knew, that knife could have been a literal one. A real silver weapon stuck into her flesh.

Or something like it. She couldn't remember the details, but the dream had been a full-blown nightmare.

She'd woken up gasping, only one sentence flashing through her mind like it was broadcasted on an electronic billboard, out in the open for everyone—including her—to see and observe and maybe even laugh at.

_I kissed Jack last night._

And then another announcement, scrolling across for the world to know:

_I like him as more than a friend._

At that point, the full weight of the stupidity she had indulged in had nearly threatened to squash her, so she was pacing back and forth as if she could work it all off.

She had _kissed him._ In the high from their victory, in the aftermath of crowning him as a co-captain, she had lost all inhibitions, had known what was at stake and still put it at risk. She had just let herself fall and relax and lose herself to what she wanted. The last time this had happened, it had not ended well.

So why had she done it last night?

Kim was convinced it was a mistake. A huge, massive one on her part, and she was going to pay for it later on, but right now she needed to talk to Jack. She needed to sort everything out.

She had to know what was going on between them. They were not yet officially boyfriend and girlfriend, and mere _friends_ did not _make out until midnight._

A red-hot blush flared across her cheeks at what had taken place on the soccer fields last night but she pushed it down along with her naivety and quickly got dressed, pulling on a pair of dark jeans and the nearest jacket she could find—her Wasabi Warriors team sweatshirt.

The number 27 flashed at her in the mirror as she put it on, rushed to the bathroom to hurriedly brush her teeth, and pulled her hair into a messy, loose bun that was close to falling out the minute the elastic had snapped into place.

The time on the clock was now around 8AM, so she just had to hope that Jack was awake and not sleeping like this wasn't of massive importance.

Because it was.

Tugging on boots and running out of her dorm, the cold air slapped her in the face momentarily before she sprinted across the plaza and into the boys' dorm. She knew she was being hurried and rash but this couldn't wait, she could not risk having a chance to reconsider what she was about to do.

She'd mustered up the courage to talk to him in this instant and if she didn't grab it, she would end up convincing herself that maybe this would all work out in the end, that maybe she _hadn't_ been totally stupid.

Kim's knuckles rapped repeatedly on the door of Jack's room, and it swung open after a few seconds, his eyes slightly bleary from sleep; however, it was clear that he had already been awake.

Her eyes flickered down, and her breath caught in her chest.

She nearly stopped at the irony of it all—or maybe it was a reminder.

They were wearing the exact same outfit.

Okay, so maybe Jack's jeans were darker than hers and he wasn't wearing boots, but he was also wearing his dark green team sweatshirt—only the number on the back of his, printed in white, blocky font, was the number 1.

1 and 27.

_Was that a deadly combination?_ Kim's focus temporarily failed her as she searched the depths of her knowledge, trying to remember if there had been any superstitions against the numbers 1 and 27 together.

Because half the time, it felt like the world would explode around them, regardless of whatever they were doing—whether they were fighting or playing soccer or running or kissing.

"Kim?" Jack's face split into a wide smile at the sight of her, and he seemed to want to pull her into a short kiss before his expression sobered. "What's wrong? Nice outfit, by the way," he smirked, the action faltering at her stony expression.

_1 and 27._

Suddenly, it all became clear to her: she needed to tell him about the Ricky Disaster.

_Now._

There would be no more keeping secrets, no more hiding her darkest thoughts around him. He was a part of the team, he was her friend (and maybe even more), and he deserved to know, no matter how much it would kill her inside.

"We need to talk," Kim's voice was tight. "_Now._"

* * *

><p>"Do you think he's going to tell her?"<p>

Jerry cast a look over at Grace, his expression thoughtful. The two were on the roof of the boys' dorm, surveying the campus from what almost seemed like a bird's point of view.

It felt amazing. The sun in their eyes, the wind in their hair, and the feeling of being with someone that cared.

They had arrived there using a series of ladders and tricks Jerry had discovered over the past couple of years to get onto the top of the building. It was surprisingly clean and since the neither the altitude nor the chances of being caught scared them, it was a perfect place to watch Jack and Kim.

Of course, they hadn't been looking _specifically_ for the pair, but when Kim had stormed into the boys' dorm and exploded right back out of it with Jack in tow, Jerry and Grace had known something was up.

Kim was leading Jack to the soccer fields, where rumor had it that they had kissed last night. Jerry wasn't too sure on the details, but Jack had returned to their shared room at about midnight with a happy look on his face and Jerry had immediately known that something was up between him and Kim.

"Tell him about what?" Jerry finally asked, his voice cracking from lack of use.

"Ricky."

That one word sent chills running down Jerry's back and he twisted around, propping himself up on the side of the building, against the two-foot wall of cement that prevented the cleaners who tidied it up from falling straight off the edge, and tried to think clearly.

Grace's hand covered his in a warm gesture. "Jerry?"

"Yeah," Jerry breathed. "Just…I don't know. Maybe. It's about time Jack found out, anyway. I think everyone's wanted to tell him at some point or another."

"I know, right?" Grace slid down next to him and they stared in the opposite direction, at the science building. "I nearly slipped up the night we broke out of detention. I accidentally told him about the equipment, and then he got kind of suspicious. Jerry, do you want him to know?"

It was obvious what Grace was asking him about and Jerry considered the words carefully. "Maybe…but it looks like he'll find out soon enough, anyway."

They both twisted around again to watch the two figures that were quickly retreating onto the benches on the soccer field, two specks of dark green on the yellowing field.

"Maybe we should get Jack a barf bag," Grace suggested sarcastically, but her attempt at getting Jerry to laugh was half-hearted.

Jerry shrugged unenthusiastically. "Nah, he'll be alright. He's tough."

They both thought this over.

"And if he barfs," Jerry added as an afterthought, "It'll probably be all over Kim."

Grace giggled, but it quickly died out as they turned back around.

Neither of them wanted to see what was happening on the field.

* * *

><p>Jack was confused.<p>

Okay, confused was an understatement. He was completely baffled as to why Kim had suddenly dragged him out of his dorm and demanded to talk to him, almost as if her life depended on it. It was a complete personality change from last night, when she'd been so…_relaxed._ Willing to talk to him, willing to admit her feelings for him, willing to kiss him.

_One step forward, fifty steps back,_ Jack mentally sighed.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Kim was serious, though—what she needed to talk about was important, and if she thought it was urgent then it probably was.

"Kim?"

Kim didn't say a word to him. The number 27 floated before his eyes, rocking back and forth as she strode across the soccer field, the yellowing grass flattening below their feet.

He tried again. "You know, if you're going to pretty much kidnap me, you could at least talk to me."

As they got closer to the benches, Kim leaped up and landed on the second step. She made enough room for Jack to sit on the same level as her, and when he'd barely caught his breath, she burst out, "I can't date you."

Jack's first emotion was confusion. Not hurt, not anger, but _confusion, _like Milton had spouted some crap about chemistry experiments or something.

This was what she had wanted to talk about?

Kim seemed to take his blatant silence as an indication to go on, as a plea for more information, and she bit her lip. "I…can't trust you. I can't trust anyone. It won't work."

And that was what set Jack off.

"You can't _trust_ me?" Jack demanded, his voice at that dangerous tone, five seconds away from screaming.

Kim's eyes had widened, and she whispered, "…No? Okay, this isn't how I imagined this conversation. Last night, Jack, I made a—"

"Huge mistake?" Jack's fingers sketched quotation marks around the two words. "Is that what you're going to tell me?"

He was so stupid. He'd thought that Kim was finally letting loose, letting herself relax, which, truth be told, the blonde could stand to do a little more of. Kim was the most tightly-wound person he had ever met, but even that was beyond the point. He had finally been convinced that Kim liked him back the way he liked her, and that she was finally admitting it for both of them.

And now they were back at square one. Kim didn't trust him, Kim was cold, and they were on the verge of fighting.

Why were their lives so…so—

His mental cuss word was cut off by Kim as she held her hands up, "Please, just hear me out. Okay? There's something I want, something I _need_ to tell you and you're probably going to want to hear it. You've wanted to hear it for a while."

Jack forced his mouth to stop spewing any swear words due to his inner frustration and he nodded tightly. "Then say it."

Kim breathed in sharply, sucking air through her mouth before letting it out slowly. "Do you know _why_ I don't think I can trust you, Jack? Not as a friend, but as a boyfriend?"

Jack was half tempted to throw his hands up dramatically, but instead he just looked her straight in the eyes and voiced, "No."

"I used to date a player on the Seaford Black Dragons," Kim looked down. "And you know him as Ricky."

Jack's mouth fell open, the remnants of his anger dissipating and leaving him with a burning curiosity. "Ricky—?"

To be frank, he'd kind of suspected it from the beginning but hearing it was confirming the truth of the hunch. He wasn't sure what he was feeling—hurt, shocked, or just weary, like he'd already known and this was old news to him.

Kim nodded, silencing the rest of his astonishment with a wave of her hand. "It was last year—sophomore year, back when I first became captain. Last season, in fact."

Jack had the dawning realization that he was finally about to learn the one large secret that had been hovering over all of the Wasabi Warriors since the beginning of the semester.

He was going to learn about the Ricky Disaster and after this, there was no turning back.

Kim's eyes remained stoic, an impressive feat considering the fact that the blonde nearly always wore her heart out on her sleeve. "I met Ricky after one of our games, where we'd almost _beaten_ the Seaford Black Dragons—we tied, and we'd been so close to scoring at the end. I thought he'd be mad at me, try to get to me, but no. He didn't seem furious with me, something that surprised me. He was nice, charming, and eventually, he convinced me to go on a date with him. Everything inside me was screaming to say no. I knew he was poison but, like the stupid girl that I was last year," Kim snorted, "I said _yes_."

Jack's jaw tightened, but he nodded.

"I know what you're thinking," Kim paused, "Just hear me out. On our first date, he told me I was beautiful, that I was talented, that he liked me, and I believed him, because I was younger and stupider and so smitten with him and his good looks. A few times, I wanted to leave because I was afraid we were going to get caught, but he convinced me to stay. We kept the relationship a secret, because, well—a Wasabi Warrior dating a Seaford Black Dragon? That would be just…it sounds dramatic, but that would be scandalous—because the teams hate each other that much."

Jack thought it over. It was reasonable. Kim's voice was pure now, full of undiluted honesty that seemed to be slicing knives into her own heart. It looked like it was physically paining her to say the words and Jack suddenly wondered if this was the first time she had ever talked about last season out loud.

"For a few weeks, it was nice," Kim shrugged absentmindedly, as if lost in a daydream or a memory. "We'd see each other on the weekends, sneak away from our friends, go see movies. I was convinced he really, really liked me, and I liked him…" Kim's voice trailed off.

Jack raised his eyebrows, "Until?"

"Until he started demanding things from me."

Jack's heart lodged in his throat and he guessed that this is where things got…_interesting._ Not that it hadn't already been interesting, of course. He'd learned so far that Kim had used to date _Ricky._ That in itself was enough of a shock to send Jack reeling from impact, and they hadn't even gotten to the serious part yet.

"At first it was small things, like how to get into our school—which I thought was kinda weird, but hey, I thought, why not?" Kim's eyebrows drew together as she tried to explain her previous reasoning in coherent phrases. "We're all in the same school district, right? Then the things got bigger—for example, the combinations to unlock our equipment closet, the locker combinations for some players' personal lockers, things like that."

"You _gave _them to him?" Jack asked incredulously, his surprise blatantly obvious. "Just like that?"

Kim nodded, a bitter edge in her voice as she continued. "I was younger then, and even though it sounds like an excuse, I really was immature. I guess I was so caught up in the idea that I liked him and he liked me and we were involved in a secret relationship, that…I thought it was no big deal. For me, it was kind of thrilling, to have to sneak around to see the guy I liked. I guess I watched too many chick flicks back then."

Jack wanted to laugh at her dry humor but he couldn't find the heart to.

Kim tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear and gripped the side of the metallic bench. "But then, bigger things started to happen. He and some of his friends would come in and mess up our equipment so we couldn't play, leave threatening notes in our lockers, play dangerous pranks on Rudy and blame it on us—they even stole Tip-Tip once."

"Rudy's _cat_?" Jack's laugh was slightly hysterical and he was very intrigued. Why would they target a _cat?_ "Doesn't seem like that much of a threat to me…"

Kim shrugged defensively, her arms crossing over her chest. "If it were any regular cat, yes, it might have even been funny. But Rudy _loves_ Tip-Tip—and I gave them information on just the right time to steal him and how. They eventually returned the cat back to Rudy, and later, after I confronted Ricky about it, he just passed it off as friendly pranks between two schools—a little competition."

_'Friendly pranks' my ass,_ was Jack's initial internal response.

"The vandalism got bigger and bigger though—different students would mess up our practice, they were destroying all our equipment, we were losing training time and focus—"

"The equipment," Jack realized, recalling a conversation between him and Grace when they had been sneaking out of detention. "Grace told me some training equipment had just been destroyed, but I didn't realize it was y—"

The minute the word _you_ had started to slip out, he shut his mouth like a trap, but Kim shook her head. "It's okay. I know, it was me. It was like they were both physically and mentally destroying us. Milton's and Julie's grades started to drop, even Jerry seemed depressed, they managed to slip things in Eddie's food that had him throwing up for hours, the notes in Kat's locker nearly drove her insane, and…I just didn't have the strength to tell him to stop."

"Why?"

Kim's voice dropped down to a whisper. "I was so scared that he was going to tell everyone about us and that the team would hate me—he'd threatened to tell everyone before—so I did what he wanted. Eventually, I was forced into doing some of those things myself. No one ever caught me—who would ever suspect me, the captain of the soccer team?"

Jack was silent.

It had been the perfect plan. Kim had been younger, more naive, and she had genuinely thought that Ricky liked her. He'd fed her lies and she'd believed them.

And Jack was starting to understand why she had kept this from him for so long.

"I even had to destroy some of our own equipment," Kim shuddered. "Rudy spent money from the school on that, and I just…"

Her voice cracked. Jack reached out to take her hand but she jerked it away, and he pulled his fingers back slowly like he'd been burned by her rejection.

"You won't ever know," Kim pressed on, taking Jack's silence as a harsh blow, "What it's like to watch your own team collapse—to be the reason for their failures, their fears, and feel like you're too much of a wimp to just come forward and tell everyone. I'd already done so much damage that I felt that I honestly couldn't repair it."

"So what?" Jack asked, with a sense of dread in his chest. "What made you tell him to stop? What ended it?"

Kim drew in a shuddery breath before whispering, "Jerry."

Jack's eyes widened. "_Jerry?_"

"No matter how clumsy Jerry is," and here Kim allowed her self an eye-roll, accompanied with a sniffle, "Jerry is—and I say this confidently, without any doubt, not because he's my friend but because it's true—but he's the most talented goalie in all of San Jose, at least between the private schools. No one can usually get a goal past him, and if they do, it's a shot that was impossible to reach, one where Jerry couldn't jump high enough to get it, one where _no_ human can jump high enough. Like the goal scored against us in our first game, do you remember?"

Jack nodded impatiently. "I remember, the goal went right above Jerry's head and barely went in. I know this already. So did Jerry find out about your relationship or something? Try to stop you, confront you in front of the whole team?"

"No."

Jack's forehead wrinkled in confusion, his mind whirring at top speed.

At this point, Kim's voice hitched, and she stopped talking for a long moment. Jack waited as patiently as he could for her to go on, determined to let her talk at her own pace.

If she was going to trust him with this information, he was going to respect her for it.

"They tried to force me into talking Jerry into quitting," Kim admitted. "Tried to, I don't know, make me see the "pros" of Jerry quitting our soccer team. If Jerry quit, then they stood a better chance of beating us next time. Of course I didn't do it, because well, Jerry's my friend and he's also a teammate. I couldn't be that selfish. I thought I could just take the blows for whatever else would happen, and I flat out told Ricky no."

Jack guessed, "And Ricky didn't like that."

"Ricky—" Kim's voice cracked. "One night, Jerry was practicing by himself on the field after dinner—you know, perfecting goal kicks, stuff like that, things goalies do. And Ricky and some boys from the Black Dragons…they found him. Cornered him. Kidnapped him, drove him a couple of miles from here. There was an abandoned warehouse. And they beat him up."

_Beat him up?_

Jack's mouth dropped open in slight confusion before he remembered his first encounter with Ricky, something that seemed like it had happened ages ago.

The first time he had ever encountered Ricky, after their first victory as a team.

_"I see you've healed up," the blond nodded carelessly in Jerry's direction after a few moments, his tone offhand. He didn't even mention Jerry's name but it was obvious that the comment was directed towards Jerry and only Jerry._

_Healed up?_

_A flash of hurt raced across Jerry's face before the goalie slipped on a mask of indifference and simply glared at him, with the a emotion Jack had ever seen Jerry possess—a hate and pain so powerful Jack seemed to be feeling the waves and the aftershock from where he stood, a few feet away._

"They beat him up _really_ badly," Kim continued on, her emotional tone bringing him back to the present. "As in, at first, they just tried to make him quit. You know, threatened him, tried to persuade him. But Jerry's pretty strong, and after he refused over and over again, they called him condescending names, insulted him, made him bleed severely, snapped a few ribs, and broke some other bones. Torture, basically. When they dropped him back off at Bobby Wasabi…I was the one that found him."

Jack nearly choked. Kim found Jerry…_like that?_

The nightmares the goalie had been having made sense now. Everything fell into place. How Jerry and Kim's fear of the Black Dragons had been so deeper than everyone else's, how Jerry had been injured severely before, why Kim was always so guilty over Jerry's fears and insecurities.

Kim swallowed, "He looked at me, just broken, bruised and bleeding out on the pavement, and whispered two words: _I know_."

Jack's heart starting thumping erratically.

"And then he blacked out."

At this point, tears had started streaming down Kim's face and she whispered over and over again, "_It's my fault, it's my fault…_"

Jack rocked back on his seat and tried to digest everything. It was like he'd been given an overdose of medicine—everything was irritatingly muddled and agonizingly, painfully clear at the same time, and he needed her to finish so he could think everything over.

Jack tilted her chin up gently, trying to figure out how to dance around this subject gently. "Kim? Could you please continue?"

Kim gulped and nodded, swiping furiously at her tears that were drying in the cold wind and continuing with a stronger voice, "It was so bad that he was hospitalized for a week. We went to see him in the hospital, and he couldn't play our game that week—and that was our last game with the Black Dragons of the season."

"And the team?" Jack pressed on, deciding not to dwell too much on the fact that Kim had practically fed Jerry to the sharks—excuse him, dragons. "What happened after Jerry was hospitalized? Did they forgive you? The team?"

Kim tugged on her scarf. "I came clean to them in the hospital, told them about everything. Some of them were angry, but most understood—they knew why I'd wanted to keep it a secret and they sympathized with me about being afraid to come forward with the truth. They'd all had secrets they wanted to hide, and some of them know, firsthand, how charming Ricky can be. Even the angrier ones forgave me by the next game, and I know for a fact that Jerry's still as loyal to me as ever—but he shouldn't be. He's too forgiving. What I did was horrible. I know he still has nightmares—you told me yourself."

"What happened?" Jack finally found his voice. "After that?"

"I confronted Ricky," Kim admitted. "Before the game against him that week, that last game. We yelled at each other, and I remember screaming at him, asking him _why_ he would do that to Jerry, and all he would say was that he just intended to scare him."

"Wow," Jack muttered dubiously. "Scar him is more like it."

"Of course I didn't believe that," Kim said dryly. "I told him that was complete bullshit and then he started repeating, over and over, _I did it to win._ He didn't feel _any_ remorse about what he and his friends had done to Jerry. Jerry was lying in a hospital bed and they couldn't even find the compassion in them to say _sorry_ or ask how he was doing."

"And your relationship?"

"Shot to hell, of course," Kim snorted disdainfully. "He claimed he'd never liked me, that he was just using me, and that I'd served my purpose. It was true, to a degree. He didn't need me anymore. It was a mutual breakup, and I'm glad."

Jack was quiet for a long moment, processing everything in his mind. "And the game?"

Kim laughed, but there was no humor to the sound. "We lost. Badly. 7-0. Without Jerry in goal, we had to place some defenders in there—and Kat, while I love her to death…she cannot play goalie, end of story. We were all so distracted by what the Black Dragons had done to Jerry that we didn't even attempt to score goals—we were in shock. We were so blinded by anger that we made stupid mistakes, got caught up in so many careless fouls. By the way, that was the game Kat earned her first red card in—she cussed Ricky out and then hit him, because she was so angry at how he'd used me and what he did to Jerry. Plus, he'd been harassing me—you know, calling me names, stuff like that—and that just set her off like nothing else."

"Yeah, she told me something about that before," Jack agreed. He was turning everything over in his mind, looking at the puzzle that had just been completed, when something else popped up in the forefront of his brain, a little detail he'd overlooked or ignored. "What happened to Ricky and the other guys that beat Jerry up?"

Kim gritted her teeth. "They got off with a minor sentence—a few hours of community service, or something. Ricky's dad is really high up, he's got contacts, and he got Ricky and his goons out of everything."

A lone leaf, dry and crackling, rolled past them on the field, propelled by the chilly winds and bumping, smashing into the yellowing grass.

"The only reason Rudy kept me on the team," Kim's voice was hollow, "Was because he knew how sorry I was, how some of it was against my will. He wanted to give me another chance, and after this he trusted me completely—he told me he saw the look in my eyes, the look that told him I would never forgive myself for this and I would never do anything like this again. I don't deserve a spot as captain, really. I should have been expelled from the school entirely."

Jack was quiet for a long time. "No, you didn't deserve to be expelled, but that's not my point. So this is why you don't trust me right now—why you never did in the first place. You're afraid I'll betray you."

"Yep, pretty much." Kim paused. The tears seemed to be completely gone, replaced by a cold, aloof distance—which, to Jack, hurt more than the emotions. "I'm not good with relationships. Last time I was in one, it resulted in blackmail, me vandalizing and breaking down my entire team, and my friend in the hospital, traumatized for weeks."

"…I'm sorry, Kim," Jack whispered. His voice threatened to break off but he fought to keep it steady, "I really am. I'm sorry for all that you've been through."

Kim didn't even miss a beat. "I know that you are, and thanks for listening. But that doesn't change a single thing."

"You know I'm not like Ricky," Jack hedged slowly, hoping she would get what he was hinting at. Jack would never have dared hurt Kim in that way. They were on the same team, and she wasn't only a girl he was interested in romantically—she was his _friend._ Jack had always held his friends to a closeness that couldn't be explained before, and Kim was no exception.

"Unfortunately," Kim dropped a hand to her forehead wearily, "I do."

"How is that _unfortunate?_"

"Because I'm afraid," Kim tapped the metal of the benches, "That you'll turn out to be like him, no matter what. Even though I know you're nothing like him, I'm paranoid now, I guess. When I kissed you last night—that was the first time in a _long, long_ time that I completely let go, and I relaxed."

Jack raised his eyes to hers. "Do you regret it?"

The sound of the wind whistling throughout the campus was the only thing that reached his ears and after a long silence in which Kim didn't respond, Jack edged closer to her, demanding an answer. "_Kim._ Do you regret kissing me?"

"I…I don't know."

In Jack's opinion, that was, hands-down, the most frustrating response in the history of frustrating responses. However, he kept his emotions masked and asked, "So now what?"

"Now what?" Kim mimicked his tone. "Now, you know pretty much everything about me. Everything I care about, anyway. I'm an open book to you now. You can read me, flip the pages back and forth…and you can write all over me. You could burn the pages, if you wanted to. You can practically do anything to me now and I _hate it._"

Jack struggled to keep his patience in check. "Where does that leave us?"

"What do you want to be?" Kim asked, but her tone was closed off, almost as if she was bored with the situation.

"I want to be someone you can trust," Jack finally burst out desperately, and he forced Kim to look in his eyes. "What you told me doesn't change my opinion of you, Kim! You made a mistake, and I know you feel guilty—but everyone makes mistakes! You've been forgiven by everyone but yourself, so you need to start learning how to forgive yourself and move on!"

Kim was also spurred to anger by Jack's intensity and she leapt up in tandem with him. "So you want me to _forget_ I pretty much _destroyed_ my friends?"

"No!" Jack wrung his hands in exasperation, "I want you to forgive yourself. You don't have to forget. Trying to forget is useless because I know you, Kim, and I know that you will _never_ forget this."

Kim fell back onto the bench, breathing hard as if Jack had just physically punched her in the stomach. "You—I—"

"Kim, you're never going to forget," Jack said, his voice gentle now. "You did something that resulted in a lot of mistakes. No one is denying that, but there's also the fact that no one is blaming you because for half of it, you couldn't even be held responsible. Kim, you need to _listen to me._ You need to _forgive yourself._"

He could see that he was losing her again and he was about to launch into another speech to keep her attention when she said, "I need to…think."

"No, Kim _hear me out_—"

"Goddammit, Jack, if you care about me at _all,_ _let me think!_" Kim finally shrieked at him, losing all her patience. He was promptly stunned into silence as she waved her hands, "I can't _clear my mind_ with you crowding me all the time and demanding explanations and wanting to be my boyfriend because I kind of want to be your girlfriend and I—"

Jack's mouth promptly fell open at that last bit and Kim's face flushed an even deeper shade of red than it had previously been before. Her voice lowered to a normal pitch but it practically shuddered with barely controlled emotion. "Jack. I told you everything. I'm an open book to you now so the _least_ you could do is _give…me…__space._"

Kim stormed off across the field, disappearing from Jack's reach in a swirl of green and blue, fury and exasperation and fear rolling off of her in waves as she swiped tears away. There had been an embarrassed air around her and for the first time, Jack fully realized all that she had told him in less than thirty minutes, the very core of her guilt and the very reason why she didn't think she could trust him.

In a way, she couldn't trust herself either.

She had bared her soul to him and he had kept demanding more, more than what she could handle and more than she could have given to him in that moment.

And that was why he let her go, watched her turn toward the dorms and disappear from view.

And that was also why he didn't return to his room until late evening, spending the entire day on the field thinking about everything she had said.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter was, hands-down, the shittiest chapter of them all. This takes the cake. If any of you are disappointed by what turned out to be the Ricky Disaster, I'm very sorry. I thought I was a genius when I planned it and then it all kind of fell apart. But may we all engage in a prayer circle for all of our beloved Wasabi Warriors…again, I apologize for the lack of quality in this chapter.**

**I know this chapter was short but I thought the amount of info given would kind of make up for it. This story has twenty-five chapters as of right now, so you guys can count down till the end, I suppose. The next chapter involves closets.**

**Anyway, the importance of this A/N: to put it bluntly, if you look at my profile, it will say "On an indefinite hiatus." I wrote that a few hours ago when I was feeling low, thinking too much about my parents, and decided to just disappear off the face of FFnet. Cut off all communications. It was partly because I wanted to focus more on high school and getting into a good college, and partly because half of what I write doesn't seem to make me happy these days. I get the feeling that I just don't _want_ to write anymore.**

**But then I thought about this story and I remembered, if I don't finish ANY other stories I have to at least finish this one before the end of the year and get out "Victory In Sight" for you all before I officially quit writing in 2013.**

**So, I suppose what I'm saying is that I'll be working on this story and this story only from now on, working when I have time because this is my biggest story yet. I love each and every one of you that review and I don't want to disappoint you. So, all my other stories will be going on hiatus until I find motivation to write them.**

**I've been feeling kind of low due to my new half-hiatus situation, so reviews would be lovely. I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter.**

**Thanks.**


	19. Matters Of The Heart

**A/N: Thank you so, _so_ much for all your reviews. I'm in awe at the sheer amount I get for each chapter now—this story has grown so much from the first chapter, and I don't take a single one of them for granted. I love you all so much it hurts.**

**On a more serious note, today is Suicide Awareness Day. For those of you who still want to honor anyone who's ever thought about suicide, attempted it, or even succeeded in it, write either "LOVE" on your wrist or wear something yellow. I know personally what it's like to come close to suicide, so this day really means a lot to me, and it should mean a lot to everyone.**

**This chapter is also dedicated to my good friend Taylor, also known as _lights-guide-you-home._ She recently stopped writing on FanFiction because she wants to focus on school—much like I'm doing next year—and since I haven't gotten around to writing my proper goodbye-I'll-miss-you one-shot for her yet, this chapter is sort of a substitute gift. I hope you enjoy it, Taylor, because I LOVE YOU GIRL. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.**

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><p><em>"I've worked too hard and too long to let anything stand in the way of my goals. I will not let my teammates down and I will not let myself down."<em>

_…_

_—Mia Hamm_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER NINETEEN: Matters Of The Heart<strong>

"Practice is cancelled," Kim announced on a breezy Wednesday afternoon, striding into the boys' locker room. "Thought you guys should know."

The door had swung open with a loud _bang,_ startling several of the male players and the sight of Kim bursting in had given them a near heart attack. Several of the boys screeched and tried to cover up their boxers, but Kim didn't give them a second glance and instead stared determinedly at the ceiling, politely giving them a few seconds to gather their wits.

Jack looked up from where he was changing his shirt and asked the question everyone was dying to voice: "Why?"

"Well," Kim said, carefully avoiding his gaze and instead turning to look at Jerry, who was standing in nothing but his soccer socks and Pokemon boxers, "Rudy took Tip-Tip to the vet—the cat swallowed a cell phone or something. And Phil can't sub for Rudy because the restaurant is super busy now."

"Phil?" The awkwardness in the air was irritating Jack, to say the least. Yes, they had been at a sort of half-decided agreement since Sunday morning, when Kim had revealed nearly everything, but that didn't mean that they couldn't look each other in the eye, right?

"Falafel Phil," Milton supplied, much to Jack's disappointment. Milton wasn't changing, as his ankle was still wrapped up from the latest accident, but he had been in the locker room talking to the rest of the players and giving them a few pointers for the upcoming playoffs. His time in the hospital had been suspicious—Julie had gone to see him the first night and then, as if by magic, they had begun to heal—but Jack was glad that he was back and more vibrant that he had been before.

Milton was different…in a good way. He sometimes still looked tired, but he was no longer pale, no longer seemed drawn-out. And Jack had noticed a definite improvement in Julie—in the way she dressed, in the way she acted around everyone.

It seemed as if everything was going back to normal…somewhat.

Kim switched her gaze to the floor and leaned against a row of lockers as Milton continued, "He's one of Rudy's best friends and even though he can't play to save his life, he loves soccer. He sometimes helps Rudy out when Rudy's busy or something."

"Why can't we just hold practice without him?" Jack waved his hands, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

"We need adult supervision," Jerry rolled his eyes, mimicking a snobby tone. "Or else something drastically horrible could happen!"

Jack winced at the high pitch of Jerry's voice as he slipped on another shirt.

Kyle tilted his head as he considered this new development, "It's good that his restaurant is getting more business, though. I heard that it was getting into a few rough spots."

"Yeah," Kim nodded uncomfortably. Jack noticed her eyes flicking back and forth between his torso and the floor, and he felt momentarily gratified that Kim was trying her hardest not to look at him.

He still meant something to her. _Something_ was better than nothing, at least.

"Well," Kim clapped her hands to break the tension in the room; Jack and Kim seemed to have this silent conversation going on (which really was a pity, as Jack didn't know what they would have said) and the other male players were trying to give them space. "I'm just going to…go now."

Jack looked up and saw the entire male half of the team—Jerry, Milton, Eddie, Kyle, Pete, and Evan—all staring at either Kim or him.

_Awkward…_

Kim straightened up and pushed the door open with a mumbled goodbye, disappearing out the door that led to the track and the fields.

And, as if on instinct, Jack sprang into action. He stuffed his soccer clothing into his locker, slammed it shut with a sweeping gesture, and grabbed his backpack, hurtling himself over a bench and heading out the swinging door after her. He barely made it through the closing crack and his elbow scraped against the corner, making him hiss in pain.

He just managed to catch her arm as she turned the corner in the hallway, and she spun back around with a panicked expression plastered across her face. "What?" she breathed, her voice high and pitchy for a second.

Jack frowned at her jumpiness but chose to dismiss it. "Have you thought about…us?"

"All I ever do is think about that," Kim admitted wryly. "And it's hard enough holding practices with you there, but with you as my co-captain it's even harder. I'm not used to having someone else help me."

Jack shrugged, "So, I'm taking some responsibility off of your hands. That's good, because you need to relax."

The heavily implied meaning hung in the air for an tense second before Jack asked, "Can we talk?"

"Talk?" Kim considered it. "Where? And what about?"

Jack shrugged. "Anything, really. I just want to talk to you. You don't have to give me an answer, but I miss being able to talk to you without anything catastrophic happening."

Kim tilted her head to the side for a minute before the tiniest of smiles broke out across her nervous features. "Tell you what. I was planning on running a full mile today because I haven't really done it in a while—you can run with me, if you want. Oh, and if you can keep up," she added with an arched eyebrow.

"Challenge accepted," Jack nodded, putting on the show of being offended before his expression morphed back into normal again. "I'll meet you on the track in say…five minutes?"

"Sure."

"Bring your best running shoes," Jack deadpanned. "And by the way…you look really nice today."

Kim looked taken aback by his seemingly random compliment, and Jack hurried to fill in the space, "I mean, your outfit's…nice."

The blonde was dressed in denim skinny jeans, with ankle-high brown boots and a blazer slung on over a dark green top. Jack looked at the delicate scarf wrapped around her neck and continued, "I think you should wear your hair up more."

His hand reached out tentatively, as if asking for permission. Kim flinched at first but then attempted to relax, and he managed to catch a few loose strands of her hair that had somehow managed to escape her ponytail and tuck it slowly behind her ear. "You look nicer with your hair up. Fiercer, but at the same time, softer."

It was true. Even with the scarf on, the absence of the usual blonde hair waving past her shoulders was very noticeable and her collarbones were more prominent, as was the curve of her face and her profile. She looked sharper, but in a way, she also looked more familiar. More like someone he knew.

"I always wear my hair up for practice and for games," Kim pointed out, her voice weak. She plucked at her scarf somewhat mournfully, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"I know," Jack shrugged, letting his hand fall to his side. "But I mean, during school. Outside of sports, I guess. You look really beautiful with your hair up. It's different, but a good different."

"…Thank you. So, I'll met you at the field in five?" Kim tried for a smile, but her voice seemed close to breaking.

Jack tried to tamp down on his disappointment. "Yeah. Sure. And you're going to lose, by the way."

Her laugh still rung in his ears a minute later as he was changing.

"Yeah right, Anderson."

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><p>Eddie hummed to himself as he spun around in the kitchen, trying to make something to eat. Having Home Ec as the very last period of the day usually took its toll on him, like when they were <em>about<em> to put the cookies in the oven and the bell had rung.

Damn.

So, to console his raging hunger, he'd simply waltzed into the kitchens and decided to make himself a sandwich. The lunch ladies—particularly Marge—knew him well and allowed him to use the kitchen whenever he felt like it, as long as he didn't mess with the preparation for the upcoming meals or take too much food. School had just let out for the day and since there was no practice, he'd headed straight to the kitchens for some good ol' baking.

Eddie tilted his head as he considered what soccer practices were usually made up of now. Unsurprisingly, after the last official game of the season, Kim had made Jack co-captain. Normally, this would have been a good idea and an intelligent move on her part, as Jack was excellent at soccer, coaching, and encouragement, but some…_things_ had gone down between Jack and Kim and now everything was awkward.

Like when they spoke at the same time, while giving instructions on a drill or an exercise, or when they were backing each other up on a claim or a reason to do this or that in a situation. Usually Jack would be the more open, warmer one, and Kim would avoid his gaze, kinda-sort-of intentionally ignoring him.

Well, ignoring him as best as one could when the person you were ignoring happened to be your co-captain.

So, the extent of their conversation was awkward talk about soccer. Practices were less efficient than they had been before, and it was starting to get on hsi nerves.

Eddie's eyebrows drew together as he looked in one of the numerous toaster ovens, trying to gauge the right time to take out his sandwich. When the cheese looked somewhat melted, he opened the little door, wincing at the hot air that practically assaulted his face with a slap. Sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration, he turned the heat off and reached in with an oven mitt—

"Looks good, Eddie."

Eddie jumped about five feet in the air, nearly burning the part of his arm that wasn't covered by the mitt and turned around to see Stacey Wiseman grinning at him, a smirk lighting up her features.

"Stacey!" Eddie was sure his face was turning red. "Hey, I um…didn't see you there."

"I figured," she rolled her eyes before hopping down from her perch on the stool behind the counter and walking up, examining the sandwich that Eddie was attempting to extract from the oven again with an air of slight interest. "What's up?"

"I'm a little confused, actually," Eddie answered as he laid the little tray on the counter and prepared to add tomatoes and lettuce. "How'd you get back here?"

"I was looking for you, and Marge let me in," Stacey shrugged, flicking back a lock of dark hair and looking at the half-completed sandwich nonchalantly. "Since practice is cancelled, I have made it my mission to consume calories. Where'd you learn to make a sandwich like this? Toasting it? Really? The closest I get to making a sandwich is slapping peanut butter and jam on two pieces of white bread."

Eddie considered his answer, "I go to Subway a lot."

Stacey laughed, a soft giggle that sent a warm feeling flooding through Eddie's veins. "Right. So do I, but I don't scrutinize their every move."

"Yeah, well…" Eddie was at a loss for what to say. He contemplated the newly completed sandwich for a moment before offering it to her, "You want it?"

Her eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"I'll make another one," Eddie shrugged.

Stacey's bright blue eyes lit up even more and she took the sandwich, politely waiting for him to finish the second one before they both started eating together. "Mmm, this is heaven," she sighed dreamily as she chewed.

Eddie looked down, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Eddie wasn't really sure what to say, so he chewed slowly on his meal. He wasn't that comfortable around girls, but around Stacey he felt more at ease than he had around other people of the female gender.

Interesting.

Stacey was on the soccer team but Eddie didn't really talk to her. They weren't exactly in the same social circles, after all. She was a defender and got more time on the bench than Eddie, which left her more room to socialize off the team, but other than that he didn't know much about her.

"So, what do you think about all this Jack and Kim dynamic stuff?" Stacey asked him as she chewed.

_Jack and Kim again,_ Eddie thought bitterly, but he kept his spirits high—after all, this was Stacey Wiseman and she actually wanted to talk to him. "They're awkward," Eddie replied truthfully. "Something went on between them the night of the game, but no one's spilling."

Stacey's foot bumped his under the counter playfully and Eddie snapped out of his pessimistic mood. "Do you think they'll work it out?"

When Eddie didn't respond, she added softly, "They're two really strong players. They're friends, and I think they should be able to figure out if they want to be more than that."

"I guess we'll see," Eddie nodded before grinning at her. "Do you want another sandwich?"

She laughed. "Sure. But I won't be able to eat dinner, then."

"That's okay with me."

* * *

><p>Kim hated feeling confused.<p>

It was a stupid feeling, really. Kim was usually direct, and she wore her heart on her sleeve. Trying to conceal everything she'd been thinking about these past few days in front of Jack was tiring—no, it was utterly _exhausting._ And on top of that, she didn't know _what_ she was thinking.

All she saw when she closed her eyes was vision of Jack, memories. The rainy day that had sent Kim into a major freak-out session, and their conversation in the gym. His unfailing patience and loyalty, no matter what. Scoring goals next to him, achieving a victory together. He'd backed her up, every single time. He was heartbreakingly kind and accepting of her, regardless of whatever she told him.

Like the Ricky Disaster.

Despite her initial opinion that telling him about everything was a huge mistake, she'd gradually come to accept the fact that the reason she felt that particular way was because it put herself down, showed him just several of her many imperfections. He deserved to know—he was a good friend and a loyal teammate, and it was bound to slip out anyway.

She just wished the situation had been different. She wished that she _hadn't_ been delirious off of her emotions, that she hadn't been close to breaking, that she—

"Kim?"

She turned around to find Jack walking up the hill to the track, coming to stand by her. "Ready to run?"

"Sure," she offered him a half-smile, and they began to jog together. The playful competitiveness from the previous conversation they'd had seemed to have completely evaporated, and they ran in uncomfortable silence before she ventured, "So…how have you been?"

Jack rolled his eyes, his breathing timed perfectly with his steps. "Wow, Kim. We're friends, not random college classmates that haven't seen each other in years."

"Alright, what's up?" she tried again.

Jack tilted his head to the side. "Nothing, really. Just thinking. As I presume you've been doing too, of course."

She could have sworn that her cheeks burned like fire at this, but she swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, I have. I've been doing a lot of…thinking."

They jogged around the far bend of the track before Jack whispered, "Is it hard?"

"No," Kim shook her head. "Just a lot to think about. And you?"

"Yeah. Same." The corners of his lips pulled up in a smile, and something in her cracked.

_He was still trying._ She had to give it to him—he never gave up, and it was one of the things she loved—_liked_ best about him. Since when did she love Jack? They were sixteen. Love wasn't really possible. She didn't believe she'd ever truly, really loved anyone in her life.

They were now nearing the end of their first lap, and as they crossed the line Jack asked, "How long are you going to make me wait for an answer?"

Kim froze completely, stopping in her tracks.

Jack skidded to a halt a few paces in front of her, startled at her sudden stop, and jogged backwards to meet her. "What? It was an honest question."

She swallowed, suddenly feeling her mouth dry up—and it wasn't because they'd been running. She managed to whisper, "How long are you willing to wait?"

"As long as it takes," he replied, truth evident in every single thing related to him—his voice, his actions, his face.

In that moment, everything was heartbreakingly, painfully clear to her.

It was as if a mirage of Ricky had appeared right next to Jack on the running track, and she was staring at two boys, two people, two soccer players. The taller one had piercing, ice-blue eyes and blond hair spiked up in the front, and a heart-wrenchingly cold expression. The brunet was just a bit shorter, but everything about him was warm—his brown eyes, his smile, the way he was looking at her.

Jack and Ricky.

Ricky and Jack.

They were so glaringly different that Kim couldn't believe it had taken her this long to register it, to fully believe it. It was as obvious as day and night, the difference between the sun and the moon—everything.

Jack was nothing like Ricky, and he would never be like the Black Dragon because he had pure, undiluted intentions.

_Nothing like him._

"What?" Jack cocked his head, confused.

Kim realized that she'd said those three words out loud and blushed yet again, looking down at the track, at the dark green material beneath her feet. "Sorry, I'm thinking out loud. Just…give me a minute."

Jack fell silent, and she turned everything over in her head.

She was sure that she could trust Jack, mainly for one reason that had always been there—he'd trusted her when she hadn't done the same to him, when she hadn't returned the favor. He was loyal, he was patient, and he was simply _good._

Now that she'd finally gotten it through to herself, the question was what she was going to do about it all.

"Come on," Kim shook her head to try to clear it. Her voice sounded oddly faint to her own ears, as if she were listening to it from miles away. "Let's just run."

* * *

><p>"What are you thinking of doing tonight?" Jack asked Jerry after dinner that night.<p>

The run with Kim had gone moderately well. After she'd oddly spaced out, they'd just talked, had a real conversation in what seemed like forever. It was refreshing not having to force anything out of her, or not having to pretend to hide anything.

Jerry flopped onto his bed, their dorm room silent before he replied, "Maybe hanging out with Grace…I finally have a girlfriend—dude, it feels so weird saying that, you know?"

Jack had been examining his Pre-Calculus homework with distaste, and his head snapped up at the mention of Grace and the world _girlfriend_ in the same sentence. His eyes came into contact with Jerry's large grin, "Wait, what? Grace…girlfriend?"

Jerry's face fell, the smile sliding off his face like condensation running down a cold glass of water. "Uh…yeah? She's my girlfriend now. That's usually how dating works."

Jack rubbed at his temples furiously, wondering how he could have forgotten—or if he'd ever known this tidbit of info in the first place. "Did you tell me this or did I just have temporary amnesia?"

"Dude, I told you the night of the game," Jerry's tone wasn't angry yet; instead, it was wounded, and it pained Jack even more. The guilt grew in him as Jerry added, under his breath, "You've just been too focused on Kim to even register anything else."

Guilt stabbed at his insides, and he thought he recalled a faint memory of Jerry grinning happily in some sort of victory that night. His mind had been so preoccupied and blinded with happiness at what had happened between him and Kim on the soccer field that he'd kind of blocked everything out since then, including their fallout. "Dude…I'm sorry. I don't know how I could have forgotten."

"Yeah, I don't know either," Jerry voiced bitterly, turning away. "We've only been holding hands and kissing at lunch. But, of course, you wouldn't know, because you stare at Kim the whole time. Do you ever think about anything else anymore?"

Jack raised his eyebrows challengingly, his guilt converting into anger. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what happened to the guy we knew that loved soccer with a passion? The one that would give up anything for the sport, not just the girl?" Jerry threw down a pencil and stood up, facing Jack with anger tight on his face and in his voice. Jack remained rooted to his seat, unable to move in Jerry's freezing glare. "You don't even notice _anything_ else anymore, you guys are making practices even worse because she refuses to look you in the eyes, and all you're focused on is getting the girl. Where are your priorities? We have _playoffs_ soon, and Kim is acting like a little kid by crying and running away and running back to you!"

"Don't blame this on Kim!" Jack leapt up, finally propelled to his feet.

Jerry arched an eyebrow, "So you want to say it's all your fault? Because the way I see it, the blame can go both ways."

"I—" Jack's voice faltered, cracking. "Well—I mean, you're focused on Grace…"

Jack felt his insides crumbling as he registered the truth in Jerry's words, but he made a weak attempt to fight back. Jerry's face lit up in cold triumph, and it seemed to twist a knife in Jack's insides.

"Yeah. I have a girlfriend, but I'm still giving one hundred percent during practices," Jerry retorted. "She's making me _better._ I'm actually _trying_ in school now, and even more during soccer. And what about you?"

Jack gritted his teeth. "Kim and I are _fine._ We're just having…disagreements."

"Yeah," Jerry mocked in a higher tone. "You both are _totally_ fine. Kim's not acting like a little kid who can't decide which ice cream flavor she wants, and you are totally not a hopeless guy who just wants her and nothing else anymore. Don't you remember what soccer is? Or teammates? Or people other than Kim? Why don't you just give her space and let her think instead of crowding her and demanding answers?"

The sickening feeling of nothing other than the truth settled in Jack like dead weight, and shame washed over him, threatening to pull him under. If Jerry—easygoing, whatever-is-fine-Jerry—was feeling like this, what did the rest of the team think? There was something seriously wrong with him. He was twisting, he was changing, and all because of something stupid called love.

If he could call it love.

The fight was escalating fast, but Jerry put an end to it by storming out the door, Jack making an attempt to follow him to fix everything. To his disappointment, it was put to a jarring stop.

"I miss the old you," Jerry threw back at him before Jack got a door in his face, the slam reverberating through his eardrums.

Jack sat down on his bed, stunned, his breathing suddenly labored. He felt as if all the oxygen in his body had been knocked out of him with the force of Jerry's truthful words, each accusation like a punch to his gut.

Maybe it had.

* * *

><p>The lights in the library were dim, but Milton felt like he was shining. Well, kind of. In other words, he felt great. This was his typical atmosphere, where he felt at home—in the large library, where he was alone with just the one person he cared most about.<p>

As if hearing his thoughts, Julie looked up, giving him a soft smile before her hazel eyes returned to a textbook.

They were only two students left in the library now. The lights were off except for the two on their library desk as they studied quietly, occasionally making small conversation about the paper they were writing together.

Milton felt it again—the urge to grab a pill and swallow it, to put his slightly scrambled mind back together. It had been easy to resist these past few days, since he was out of soccer for his injury and didn't have that particular stress on him, but it would no doubt return as soon as he was given the okay to start practice again.

And they'd just been assigned a major paper. He was a soccer player, a student, leader of the Science Club, had volunteer jobs on the weekends, and was also planning on running for Student Council president. He had to keep his grades in tip-top shape and he couldn't let his guard down in practice and in games.

So, he had a lot of stress on him. Trying to be perfect came with a cost.

Julie had taken all the bottles and Milton had let her, but there was still that hunger in him, that addiction, the idea of the easy way out. It would be so simple, but if he gave into the temptation he would probably never forgive himself again.

Hazel orbs flicked to his blue ones, and she reached out across the table, uncrossing her legs and taking his left hand in her own, giving him something to hold onto.

Their pencils continued to scribble frantically across notebook paper and the scene remained the same, but suddenly Milton found it easier to breathe.

* * *

><p>Grace lounged in her room, her feet propped up on her desk as her eyes flicked back and forth between her textbook and her phone. She was studying in her room and texting Jerry about his recent fight with Jack while the ever-present rumble of the shower continued to sound behind her in the bathroom, providing a slightly depressing aura to the evening.<p>

She sighed, and was about to go check in on Kim when none other than the brunet walked into her room, looking nervous and a _lot_ guilty.

"Hey, I'm sorry…but is Kim here?" Jack hedged, unusually timid. "I need to talk to her and it's really important."

Grace smiled wryly and stood up from her chair, twisting her feet onto the ground and slipping her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. "Let me guess. Your recent fight with Jerry snapped everything into some new, twisted perspective."

Jack's face fell, "He told you about that?"

"Something like it," Grace tilted her head to the side. "I'll leave the explicit words out of it, though, since it's not something you want to hear. He's just really angry. Jerry gets like that sometimes. I think he's just afraid…I think he's just afraid of what might happen."

Jack's eyebrows drew together, obviously confused. "What might happen?"

"Look, Jack," Grace stepped closer to him, trying to put it in a way that the fellow forward would understand. Her tone was gentle, "The last time that Kim was this secretive and jumpy and confused about something—or someone—was when she was with Ricky last season. And even though you're nothing like Ricky…look what happened to Jerry because of it."

Jack looked like he'd been physically punched in the gut and run over with a truck for good measure at that realization and a wave of pity washed over Grace. "Kim's in the shower," Grace told him, changing the subject. "She's been in there for a long time."

"Really?" Jack looked a bit confused.

"She's been there nearly the whole evening," Grace nodded, elaborating. "When she wants to think, she takes really, _really_ long showers. Sometimes, she just sits down and doesn't move, just stays there under the water. It helps her think. She gets out when the hot water finally runs out—you can usually hear her scream because of it."

When Jack still looked a bit puzzled, Grace aimed her eyes at the floor. "She did it a lot last season."

Jack looked like he wanted to utter an apology, and had just opened his mouth when—

"Did what a lot last season?" Kat's head appeared in the open door, dark eyes bright with curiosity, and Grace and Jack flinched visibly. Kat's easy smile appeared as she loped into the room, her hands tucked into her pockets. "What, did I walk in on something scandalous?"

Jack coughed, "Not really."

A beat.

"Well," Grace clapped her hands, trying to clear the awkward air, grateful to Kat for bringing up a distraction. "Since Kim is in the shower, Kat, can we go to your room? Is Emma in there?"

"No, she's at rehearsals for the new Shakespeare play…" Kat narrowed her eyes in slight accusation and Grace and Jack. Grace widened her eyes innocently as Kat questioned slowly, "What do you want to do in my room?"

"A squat challenge," Grace declared mightily as she took the stairs, both Kat and Jack trailing after her with the air of two people who didn't know what the hell was happening. "The Call Me Maybe one."

"Oh, no," Kat and Jack refused adamantly at the same time.

Personally, Grace thought Jack looked grateful for the distraction, so she played along, shooting him a quick wink that sent a blush sweeping across his cheeks. "Come on," Grace whined. "I want a toned butt and legs—"

"They're already toned," Kat remarked sarcastically.

Grace aimed a sharp glare in her direction, and twisted the door open to Kat's second-floor dorm room. "Come on guys, will you please do it for me? I've done it a few times before but it's no fun without friends. You too, Jack. You look like you could use a distraction or something. And toned legs. Not that they're not already toned, of course."

Grace mentally facepalmed at her over-casual tone but had to hold back a smirk. Mentioning Jack's legs and the word _toned_ in a single sentence was highly awkward, but at least it seemed to force him into conjuring up an actual reaction.

Jack's eyes widened in evident discomfort. "Um, Grace? I don't know if you've seen me, but I'm a guy and I'm not exactly the squatting type—"

"No excuses," Grace waved it off cheerfully as she pulled up the video on Kat's laptop. Kat was giving her a death glare as the defender flopped back on her bed, the dark red comforter settling around her and wrapping her in a red velvet skin. Jack looked apprehensive about this whole thing.

Five minutes of grumbling and slapping and blackmailing later, they were all staring at the video, Grace warning them that it was probably going to hurt.

And three minute and forty seconds later…

"SODDING HELL, GRACE! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

* * *

><p><strong>(SENT: 10:46 PM)<strong>

**To: Jack A.**

**From: Kim C.**

**Jack, I need to talk to you. Face to face. **

_(SENT: 10:47 PM)_

_To: Kim C. _

_From: Jack A._

_I'm assuming the hot water ran out?_

**(SENT: 10:47 PM)**

**To: Jack A.**

**From: Kim C.**

**Um…I don't know how you knew that but yes, it did. It was very therapeutic, so can you get your butt to my dorm room now? Bring a jacket, it's cold.**

_(SENT: 10:48 PM)_

_To: Kim C._

_From: Jack A._

_Why? And what about Grace?_

**(SENT: 10:48 PM)**

**To: Jack A.**

**From: Kim C.**

**It's important. And Grace isn't here, she's with Jerry or something. They're out in the courtyard. **

**(SENT: 10:50 PM)**

**To: Jack A.**

**From: Kim C.**

…**Jack? Are you still there?**

_(SENT: 10:55 PM)_

_To: Kim C._

_From: Jack A._

…_Okay. I'll be there._

* * *

><p>Kim kicked at the door for the fiftieth time, the closet rattling on its hinges.<p>

However, it didn't fall down, and she bit her lip, wondering if she should actually use the extent of the power in her soccer-trained legs and simply kick the door down with sheer force.

She was certainly capable of doing it, but then again, she was plopped down on the floor, not in standing position that would give her additional strength. Plus, it was as dark as ink from a pen in here and she couldn't see squat.

She tried again.

_Thump._

"Kim!" Grace hissed, annoyance evident in her voice. "Stop it, you're going to blow everything!"

Kim kicked harder at the door, which Grace had somehow found a way to lock. "Of course I'm trying to blow it!" she gritted her teeth. "You're locking me in my own closet! And you're dragging Jack in here as well!"

Jerry's voice was weary, and the goalie's words floated to her through the cracks between the door and the wooden floor. "This is to benefit everyone, Kim. If we keep letting you guys skirt around each other like bees or something nothing is ever going to get done in practice. We're locking you two in here and not letting you out until you guys _work_ it out. Fully."

Grace murmured something in agreement, and Kim could almost visualize the brunette crossing her arms.

Kim let out another grumble, but secretly she was grateful for this chance. Yes, she was locked in her own closet. Yes, she slightly crumpled on the ground with ropes bound crudely around her wrists and one of her only pairs of heels jabbing into her back like knives, and yes she was claustrophobic, but there was something in her that hoped that it would finally all work out.

"How exactly are you getting Jack over here?" Kim raised her voice so Grace could hear her.

"We used a little something called your phone," Grace called back.

Kim wiggled, trying to drag her bound wrists into her right pocket, and found that it was empty.

Well, Grace had some major pick-pocketing skills, Kim would give her that.

"Why don't you—"

"_Shh_!" Grace hissed at her. "He's coming!"

Kim's muscles tensed in anticipation, and she strained her ears to catch every hint she could.

"Ready?" Grace whispered to Jerry.

Jerry must have nodded, for five seconds later, there was a knock on the door of their dorm room.

The sound of a door being swung open.

"Kim? Why is it so dark? What are you—_aghhh!_"

The voice was undoubtedly Jack's, and it was raw with surprise. Next came the cacophonic thumps of bodies rolling against the floor, and Kim assumed that Jack was fighting back.

"Jack—it's—Jerry!"

Jerry was containing Jack while Grace fumbled with the lock on the closet door, and soon enough the doors had swung open, letting in a whoosh of fresh air, and a haphazardly blindfolded Jack had been shoved in, landing on a pair of Grace's stilettos and yelping in pain.

Kim had no idea Jack's voice could reach that high of a pitch.

The door slammed behind them again, and Kim crawled across the tight space, helping Jack work the blindfold off.

"_Kim?"_ Jack asked incredulously, and he slipped his phone out of his pocket, illuminating the tiny area and Kim's bitter expression, along with her tied hands. "So…you don't actually want to talk to me? Okay, scratch that. What the hell is going on?"

His hands reached out to untie the ropes around her wrists and just as they came free, Jerry's voice reached them. "We're leaving you in here and not letting you out until you work everything out between you, got it? Talk, fight, make out, do whatever you have to do, but _figure it out._"

In the light of Jack's cell phone, Kim saw the brunet's slightly weary face flash with realization, but he said nothing.

Silence.

And more silence.

"I think they want us to give them privacy," Grace whispered gently to Jerry.

"Fine!" Footsteps moving across the floor. "We'll go in the bathroom and give you privacy. But you two had better talk!"

The slam of a door, and then all was silent.

Kim cleared her throat. "Um…I'm sorry they had to drag you into that."

Jack smiled wryly, "I think I should be used to it by now, actually. I've nearly been here a whole semester."

Kim shook her head, "No, I'm even surprised, and I've known them for over two years. It's the first time they've actually locked me in a closet, so this is a new experience for me."

There was a long pause, and then Jack tried, "So, I guess you've had a lot of time to think. In the shower, of course."

"Yeah." Kim had to bite back a laugh at Jack's slightly weirded-out expression. "It actually does work."

"So what did you come up with?"

Kim propped herself up, rubbing her wrists as she considered how to phrase it. "Well, first of all, I can't believe that it took me this long to get it into my head, but you're nothing like Ricky. I shouldn't be scared of you, and even though I tried to deny it at first, I think you had my trust from the very beginning. Even if I didn't know it myself."

Jack's voice was quiet, "Thank you. That means a lot."

"And second…" Kim swallowed. Apologizing didn't come naturally to her—she was usually the one that was in the right. "I'm sorry for acting like a kid. For pulling you in and then pushing you away, several times in a row."

Jack shrugged. "I have things to be sorry about too—I kept crowding you, I didn't let you think. I was too focused on this, and the team noticed. So I guess we were both wrong. Jerry knocked sense into me, but you figured it out all on your own."

Kim licked her lips, her mouth suddenly devoid of all moisture. "But I like you. A lot. And even though I tried to deny this too, I like you as more than a friend. And I do want to be your girlfriend."

Even though the lighting was dim, she could see the grin brighten up Jack's face, pulling up the corners of his lips.

"But…"

"But?" Jack repeated, wary.

Kim bit her lip, thinking out loud. "I want to take it slow. I don't want to rush into anything, and with playoffs this soon, it had me thinking…give me until the playoffs are over, until all the stress is gone. Until the very last second of the very last game. And then, if you still like me, I don't care whether we win or we lose—I'll be your girlfriend. We'll date, we'll go out, whatever normal couples do."

Jack's silence struck worry into her, and her cheeks paled. "You _do_ want to be my boyfriend, right? Even though I've been really, _really_ childish and stupid?"

"Of course I do," Jack smirked, his lips softening into a smile. "And it'll seem even sweeter when we win."

"We're definitely going to win," Kim grinned in satisfaction, and they slapped a high-five, standing up and brushing themselves off. "Right now, we'll concentrate on soccer. We'll win at the state championships. And then we'll find a way to balance it next season."

Jack's spirits seemed high, but his eyes softened, turning the exact shade of melted chocolate even in the bluish light from his cell phone, the only source of light in the closet. "Sounds like a plan. Just…can I do one more thing? Before we turn into soccer robots? Close your eyes."

"Sure…?"

The next thing she felt was Jack's lips on hers and his hands on her face, pulling her into a chaste kiss that sent her head spinning and her heart thumping at a speed that should have been illegal.

Several minutes later, they were breathing hard, pressed against the closet door. After such a long period of inactivity, the light from Jack's cell phone had simply shut off and died out, but she could still see his silhouette and the hint of a grin on his face.

"That was…something," Kim tried to find the words to say, thankful that he couldn't see the pink that was surely showing on her face.

Jack checked, "No more awkwardness?"

"None," Kim confirmed.

"Good." Even Jack's voice seemed to be smiling. "Then from now on until the playoffs, it's about soccer. Now, let's make a noise loud enough for Jerry to hear so he can let us out and we can kill him for kidnapping us."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Angry!Jerry is extremely hot. Just putting it out there. **

**Anyway, there you have it—Jack and Kim's new relationship status. No more commentary on that, but I guess it'll keep you hanging on until the very last playoff game—which, by the way, _will_ happen in this story. KICK SHIPPERS, I HOPE YOU'RE FREAKING HAPPY NOW.**

**HEADS UP: This story will be twenty-five chapters long, so I have about six to go. If you want to count down, that is how you do it. :D**

**And for the record, the Call Me Maybe workout does burn. I've been doing it every single day for a week or so now and I'm not sure why, but after a while it gets addicting. I dare you to all to try it.**

**Thanks so much for reading—and reviews would be lovely. **

—**Ariana x**


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